A Hero's Name
by DragonofAnnoth
Summary: A young man, the son of a high-ranking Plegian religious official and third in line for the throne, escapes to warn the neighboring country of Ylisse of a plot to begin a war - and eventually to resurrect the Fell Dragon! But an accident occurs during the escape, and he is left without his memories. Now, no one knows of the growing threat, and the world slips closer to darkness. AU
1. Prologue

A man on a storm grey horse raced through a seemingly abandoned forest, the man's cloak streaming behind him. His hood had fallen back long ago, revealing a young face and pure white hair. Though they were both exhausted from the ride, the man pushed the horse to keep going, fueled by the terror he knew was behind them. His pursuer, though on foot, seemed to know no earthly limits. So he and his mount continued, their way lit only by the faint light of the moon, regardless of the tree branches slapping them as they went by.

After what seemed like an eternity, the horse trotted to a stop in a small clearing with a stream running through. Its head already drooping, it walked to the stream and began to drink in great gulping draughts. The man allowed it for a short while-his mount was exhausted-but pulled the horse's head away from the water before he drank too much to run properly. The man sat up and looked around surveying the trees for any sign of movement, but not moving the horse, allowing it some rest. After a couple of minutes of this, the man leaned down to pat his horse and whisper encouragement.

"Good job Stormchaser, good job…" He looked up again and glanced around, and not seeing any movement, dipped to speak to the horse again. "You ran well, and there's a carrot in your future, because I think we lost him-"The man's eyes flew open in alarm, and he quickly grabbed his ears as if to prevent the thought from floating off. _Nonono! Damn it, don't jinx yourself!_ The man thought furiously to himself. _As if fate needs another excuse to foul this up!_

The man froze, listening. After a few seconds, he relaxed and uncovered his ears, just before an enormous cracking sound rang out behind him.

A large pine tree, split directly down the middle, fell to the ground. Behind it stood a man who seemed like an exact copy of the original. A feral grin spread over his lips. "Guess who?"

Cursing, the man wheeled Stormchaser around to face the pursuer. His glove crackled with energy as he readied a thunder-type magic; he didn't need the tome, he had long since memorized the spell. The pursuer slowly walked forward, laughing at the pulsating magic. "Really? You expect anima magic to do anything to me? Perhaps you should have kept up on your studies of dark magic, it might serve you well no-"

The man yelled "Thoron!" and released a beam of lightning that blew through the pursuer's face and silenced his mocking voice. He grinned and let out a sigh of relief before realizing a) the body wasn't falling over and b) the head seemed to be regrowing. "Damn." He swiftly turned Stormchaser around and tore off into the night once more. He had only ridden for a minute before trees started to splinter around him in clouds of miasma-like dark magic.

"That wasn't very nice!" The pursuer's voice sounded behind him. Shots of dark lighting and strange fire continued to fly by him, getting nearer with each shot. As the man tried to see what was ahead, he found the trees thinning out around him.

 _Oh, crap. If I get in the open, I'll be that much easier to hit, and I don't regrow!_ Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a victorious "HA!" and he had only enough time to think _Oh crap_ once more before Stormchaser was replaced by a thunderous explosion of dark magic.

The man awoke a few seconds later in a field. He quickly sat up, prompting a headache to remind him to be more careful. Looking towards the forest, he saw a cloud of smoke rising in the moonlight. After checking himself for wounds and finding none, he turned and glared at the forest, wincing.

"That was my favorite horse, damnit. If I get my hands on you-"A hard, calloused, hand grabbed his face and dragged him to his feet. The mocking voice, an exact copy of his own that he thought he had blown away just a few minutes ago, spoke again.

"You'll what? Join him in pieces? I'd rather you not. You see, we have a dragon to resurrect, and you're a vital part in that." The feral grin rippled over the pursuer's face once more." Now be a good little boy and let me join you in that head of yours… Fellblood."

The man grimaced at the title that his father had insisted on calling him. Distaste etched itself on his features just before a disturbing feeling echoed through his being. Both the man and his pursuer went completely stiff as the battle transferred itself to their minds.

They remained this way for a while, seemingly still, as the war between minds was waged. It was a fierce battle, but not one the defender could win. _If I can… just… distract him from the battle for a moment…_ He thought. His mental defenses were crumbling. The pursuer was getting in. So he made the first physical move of their fight since the mind battle started. He drew back his arm, and readied the quickest magic that he could, which at that point was a weak Thunder spell, and slammed his hand into his pursuer's body. This proved to be a mistake. The electricity shot through his pursuer, jolting him, but came up his arm and shocked the man as well.

The man's remaining defenses dropped instantly, and like an invading army, the pursuer rushed into his mind and immobilized his thoughts. The pursuer hissed. "Now let us join, Fellblood." But with an unexpected bang, the pursuer was ejected from the man's mind. His body flew back, releasing the man. With a look of shock on his face, he stumbled to his feet. "What!? How!? How could this be!? What went wrong with the process…?"

The man got up, slow but steady, and began readying thunder magic again. "You made one mistake. Began the merge assuming my identity was Fellblood. But I have another name, you know. My birth name. The one my mother gave me. It's Robin, and don't you forget it!" With this, Robin thrust his hand forward, calling "MJONIR!"

A massive bolt of lightning incinerated Robin's pursuer and after examining the spot for a minute, Robin realized that his doppelganger was not regenerating. Exausghted, he turned away, but stopped suddenly.

A horrified expression crossed his face as he felt his memories begin to leave him. After having his mind invaded, and then having the invading force torn out, his mind was broken. He began to panic as his memories, one by one, fled him and dissolved into darkness. The process was so disturbing that he fainted, and lay in the field as his past ran from his head.

The last thing he knew was a strange vision. A vision of a friend, and sword. Of a tall man, dark magic, lightning, and victory. Of betrayal, and menacing laughter.

And then he knew no more.

 **A/N: G'day! I hope you enjoyed that chapter, because more are coming. Frankly, I don't know when, but they'll come, I assure you. Next chapter will be longer than this. Much, much longer... hehehe... I mean what? Finally, constructive criticism is always welcome. Welp, that's all for now, see you next time!**


	2. Chapter One: Along Came a Tactician

The blue haired man was really, REALLY, tired.

It wasn't as if he hadn't had a good night's sleep, it was just that he didn't want to let it go. He groaned and rolled away from the encroaching sunrise. _Why didn't I close the drapes last night?_ He moaned to himself. The innkeepers had insisted on giving him the best room, which essentially consisted of getting the best view of the sunrise, which he currently realized he could do without. The bed was very comfortable, even if it wasn't what he was used to. Even the castle beds could be replaced by straw and burlap if he was tired.

With a heavy sigh, he resigned himself to waking up, and rolled over to greet the sunrise with a smile. _Well, if I fall asleep again, I'll only submit myself to Lissa's wake up call. I'd rather not experience THAT again._ Chuckling at the memories of surprise visits and buckets of cold water to the face, he got out of bed and readied himself for the day.

Knowing his little sister's tendency to barge into a room, whether the occupant was asleep or not, he opted to shave first, using the bowl of water and razor that was on the bedside table. Despite this precaution, he still managed to cut himself twice. Cursing himself for his clumsiness, he quickly dressed, putting on his sleeveless mail shirt, followed by his tunic, belts, cape, and pauldron. As he was attaching his sword, Falchion, he started to get worried.

 _Lissa's not usually this late,_ he thought, wrinkling his brow. _Did she hurt herself? I can't think of any reason why-_

The door flew open, banging against the wall of the room. "Good morning, brother!" A cheerful voice sang out.

 _That was quick._ Chrom grinned as his sister's face fell; obviously she had hoped to catch him unawares. _Like I'd let her do that after last time._ However, instead of teasing her about it, he decided to return the greeting.

"Good morning, Lissa, sleep well?" Her slightly pouty face quickly turned up again as she bounced excitedly.

"Oh, yes! I never though a bed could be so comfortable! But I can't wait for today! Visiting the markets, exploring the country side, meeting new people, oh, this will be a day of adventure!" Chrom's grin widened as he listened to his sister's gushing. Then he sighed, saddening a little. He didn't really want to pop her bubble of happiness, but he realized that eventually someone would have to.

He was just getting himself ready to do so, when Lissa stopped midsentence with an exclamation of surprise. "Hey! What happened to your jaw?" she cried, pointing at his cuts, which had stopped bleeding just before. Chrom blinked in mild surprise. He had forgotten about them already.

"Oh, those?" Lissa had already adopted a dubious look on her face, and had put her hands on her hips. "I just cut myself while shaving, it's not a big deal-" He began dismissively, rubbing his hand along the red lines.

"NOT A BIG DEAL?" Lissa practically shouted. "Those could be poisoned! Come on! I left my healing staff in my room, and you aren't getting away without proper treatment." With that, she grabbed his arm and dragged him, protesting weakly, through the door and down the hallway.

As he passed the other rooms in which his friends had stayed, he decided that they must have gone for an early breakfast and left him and Lissa to sleep. _No one could remain asleep with the scolding Lissa is giving me._ Her normally cheerful face was set in a frown, and her irritation at the thought of an injury being untreated was expressed thoroughly through a rant of epic proportions. Chrom didn't really listen; he had heard a similar speech from Frederick earlier that week.

After reaching Lissa's room, the verbal assault stopped as she looked for her staff. Her bags were rather large and seemed to contain a great deal of clothing, but she dove right into it. At this point, Chrom finally had a chance to take in what his sister was wearing: a yellow and white dress with limited leather armour, made with a series of metal hoops in the skirt so she wouldn't trip on it.

"What's with the outfit, Lissa?" He asked. She pulled her head out of the bag of belongings only long enough to reply.

"If we're going shopping, I don't want to be wearing that same old uniform." She said, referring to the military uniform she wore with the Shepherds. "I want to have some fun! So I chose a dress!" Her blond-haired head once again disappeared into the bag, and Chrom sighed.

"You realize that you don't need a uniform in the Shepherds, right?" Chrom asked dubiously. "We're pretty informal, so you can wear that dress full-time if you want to."

Lissa didn't bother to remove her head at this statement, and just gave her response to the interior of her luggage. Chrom didn't catch what she said, but it seemed to be along the lines of 'I'll be doing that, then!'

 _Well, better get this over with…_ He thought wearily. He almost sagged with the thought. It felt like kicking a puppy sometimes.

With a triumphant shout, his sister emerged from the bag with her healer's staff in hand. Her face changing from happiness to concentration in an instant, she held her staff a couple of inches from Chrom's face and began healing, causing it to glow. As she did this, Chrom began to speak.

"So, Lissa-" He only got that far before Lissa shushed him.

"Stop moving your jaw so much, I can't get it properly if I can't see it." After frowning in thought as to how to speak without moving his jaw, Chrom decided to let his sister finish before speaking. After a few seconds, she stepped back to admire her work. "There! Not so much as a scar!" Lissa stated proudly, reverting to her usual, bubblier self. "Now, what were you saying?"

"Ah, yes." Chrom stumbled "Right. I just wanted to make sure you understood that this is a recruiting and information mission. Not a shopping trip."

Lissa's face made its sudden-change act again, this time reverting to pouting and disappointed. "Aww, come on. We don't get to go out often, why can't we do this now?" Chrom sighed again as he turned and headed for the stairs; he was hungry and Lissa knew the reasons. She followed him, knowing she would lose the shopping battle, but changing tactic and going for something that she knew would interest him as well, and maybe get them out of their duties for a day.

"Ok, ok, we won't go shopping, but can't we go and explore? I know you want to." She added the last part as she saw him waver.

Chrom sighed again. If he was truthful, he really wanted to go out and just see things for a day. To pretend that he had no responsibilities and look over the fields and woods and rocks. But he could see one obstacle in their path today, and ironically, that was the one who got up early to remove rocks and the like from the path ahead.

"Alright, we'll go riding today, but-" He was interrupted by his sister's cheer. "BUT. You have to get an excuse for convincing Frederick to let us go." Despite the daunting task, Lissa's enthusiasm refused to be curbed.

"Ok!" She said cheerily. "I'll figure it out! See you after breakfast!" she turned and took the staircase down to the main floor, skipping every second step. Chuckling to himself, Chrom followed her down the steps, abet at a slower pace.

Chrom discovered breakfast to be a wonderful, home cooked spread of eggs, pastries, and some form of sausage. He decided not to ask of its origin, but his suspicion rested solely on rabbit. He ate with the others he had brought on the recruiting trip with him, Frederick, Stahl, and Sully.

Stahl was dressed in green cavalier's armour, with a similarly coloured tunic underneath. He didn't talk much during meal times - he was too busy with the food - but otherwise was a jovial sort who loved to talk with you about anything. Generally seen as the jack of all trades type, people always thought of him as the most well-balanced member of the Shepherds. He was the person everyone was friends with, and was well respected for his

Sully, dressed in a red copy of Stahl's armour, was Stahl's childhood friend. After she heard he was becoming a knight, she joined too, just to continue 'kicking the crap' out of Stahl. She was the competitive sort and very little patience for pleasantries, preferring to, as she put it, cut the crap and move on in life. She challenged Stahl to contests the most (excepting eating contests), but all were fair game when it came to her.

Frederick however was an entirely different cup of tea. His armour was far more grand than either cavalier, with a shield by his side, all of it a perpetually gleaming combination of silver and blue. He was most often serious, never seen in public without at least a suit, and Naga forbid he ever forgets to polish his spear! He was very reliable though, and had been Chrom's friend and confidant ever since Chrom's father died. All told, however, he was overprotective, smothering, and set in his ways; with him, there was only one way to do things, and that was by the book.

Just as Chrom finished his meal, Lissa came rushing back to him, eyes alight with excitement. She leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"I just found the perfect excuse! A guardsman said that sometime in the night, he saw a strange flash followed by the sound of thunder. He thought it was magic, but there are no mages in these parts and it was too far away to have been heard from here."

"Could it not have been a rouge lightning strike?" Chrom asked. Lissa shook her head.

"No. He said it happened at ground level, but some way off. It would be perfect to explore!" Chrom sat back and thought about it for a second. He looked over to the guardsman's table and inspected their faces. They were all there, but none of them looked very worried. _I guess it didn't worry him too much. But an excuse is an excuse, so I'll take it._

"Yes, I think that'll convince him. Go tell him that he, Stahl, and Sully can continue to the last town we were to visit, and you and I will stay here to investigate. They can come back to this town tomorrow and follow us home from there."

Lissa squealed and leapt into the air, prompting Sully to chuckle and Stahl to look up from his food to give her a bemused look. "Thank you, brother!" She said as she gave him a strangling hug around the neck. "I'll tell Frederick!"

After regaining his breath, he walked out of the inn, giving the old couple who served as innkeepers and thankful nod and a greeting. Once outside, he surveyed the courtyard. The sun had risen by now and the market outside the church was already bustling. The farmers were out on the fields, readying the harvest, but the craftsmen had begun their work and the merchants had set out their wares. The other townspeople went to the cannel to draw water for the day. Chrom smiled at the people as they went about their daily routine, almost wishing for their simple lives.

After standing there for a while, greeting townspeople and watching the market, Chrom stretched and shivered. _Why don't I have a sleeve on my right arm?_ He wondered. After a second he snapped his fingers in realization. _Oh yeah, Frederick thought it would improve moral if I had my brand in the open._ After glaring at his bare right arm for a few seconds, he simply decided it was going to get him hurt one day.

Emerging from his reverie, he looked up and around and realized that some time had passed since he had left the inn. _I wonder what's taking Lissa so long…_ he thought as he turned to go inside once again.

Just as he reached it, the door opened to reveal Lissa… and FREDERICK? They both walked past Chrom, ignoring the unconcealed look of surprise on his face.

"Couldn't shake him. Sorry." Lissa whispered out of the corner of her mouth as she passed.

"I heard that." Frederick said as he passed on the other side.

Chrom sighed. _Should have known… can't shake Frederick._ Resigning himself to his fate, he followed his sister and his bodyguard to where the horses were stabled. _Well, at least we get to go._

The ride was much more enjoyable than Chrom expected. Frederick let them set a slower pace to take in the scenery, which quite frankly shocked the siblings. But they weren't ones to tempt fate, so they didn't ask of it. Still, they were waving at the farmers in the last field far too soon for their liking.

The well-tended fields gave way to meadows and forests and streams. Lissa had a hard time not running into the woods to explore, and even Frederick couldn't deny the beauty of it all.

Finally (or perhaps too soon) they reached the area that the strange lights were sighted in. they dismounted in the middle of a meadow and spread out to look for clues. They ended up looking through two more meadows and several small stands of trees, but found nothing more exciting than a strangely split tree - it was split directly down the middle, but Frederick contributed it to normal lightning storms.

Chrom was beginning to doubt the credibility of the information when Frederick called out to the siblings that this would be the last field they would search. Chrom waved in acknowledgement and proceeded to the side Lissa was looking around in. Frederick methodically worked at the other end of the field behind them.

They were almost finished when Lissa cried out in surprise and called for Chrom.

"Chrom! There's someone passed out in the grass over here! Quickly, come!" Chrom's head snapped up, and he ran over to where Lissa was bouncing from foot to foot in agitation.

The sight that greeted his eyes was strange, to say the least. A man, clothed in cream tunic and pants with a wide belt around his waist and a purple-black trench coat, lay unconscious. He seemed to have some kind of injury on his face, and dried blood obscured some features, but Chrom could tell his face was in a grimace. He had a sword belted around his waist, but his most striking feature was his pure white hair. A few feet away from him, there was a scorched circle of grass, as if a camp fire had been built in the middle of the field.

"Hmm… that's… strange." Chrom muttered, coming to a stop. _Better not get too close, if he's a spy and this is a trick… what am I thinking? Frederick's rubbing off on me._ Lissa was giving him a look of pure disbelief.

"Chrom, we have to do something!" She insisted.

"What do you propose we do?" Chrom replied. _He looks as though he's dead already…_

Lissa looked at the ground. "I… I donno"

Looking back at the man on the ground, Chrom realized that he was waking up. _Wow, that guy must have a headache! I thought he was dead, what with the blood all over his face._ However, instead of vocalizing his thoughts, he simply said "Oh! I see you're awake now."

Lissa looked over and smiled at the man as if she knew he was going to wake up at that moment. "Hey there!" She said with a giggle. The man gave a confused look and a hesitant nod of acknowledgement. Chrom decided to help the man up before Lissa decided to make small talk while he was still on ground.

"There're better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know. Give me your hand." Chrom said, extending his hand. After a moment's indecision, the man smiled and took Chrom's hand, allowing himself to be pulled up. At this point Frederick arrived, having run across the field, but made no comment.

Chrom handed the stranger his water skin and allowed him to wash the blood off his face. Curious, he gave a closer look at the man. The dried blood gone, Chrom saw that he was young, about his age. Continuing to look over him, he noted the golden trim on his cloak, along with strange makings on the sleeves and back. They seemed to be representing eyes. _He must be wealthy to afford such a nice cloak._ But at this point the man finished washing his face, and Chrom became more concerned with the wound on his forehead than his appearance.

"Are you alright? That doesn't look good" He asked. The other man chuckled.

"No, no, I'm okay. Thanks Chrom." He handed the water skin back to Chrom, who accepted it with a slight frown.

"I'm sorry, but have we met?" Chrom couldn't remember meeting this man, and was sure he would have remembered meeting someone with such white hair before. His confusion increased as the other man frowned in response.

"No, I don't think so. How would I have remembered your name then…?" he seemed to address this last part to himself. He crossed on arm across his chest and placed the other hand on his chin, thinking. His frown deepened with each passing second. Chrom, not sure as to how he was to respond to that, simply asked more questions.

"Well, can you at least tell us your name, and maybe how you got that head wound? We'd like to know if there are bandits in the area." The man looked up, slightly surprised.

"Of course, I'm sorry, just trying to retrieve a memory. My name is… "The man stopped talking for a moment, then started again. "My name is…" An extremely alarmed look dawned upon his face. "…I can't remember my own name. I can't remember anything!"

Chrom reached out to grab the man's shoulder; he looked ready to fall over again. Then Frederick spoke.

"I'm sorry, but you expect us to believe that you remember Chrom's name, but not your own? Ludicrous. I've never seen a more obvious trap." He delivered the last line with a sneer on his face.

"B-but it's true!" The man stammered. Chrom looked at the panicked man and felt nothing to fear, but Frederick had always been reliable.

"Peace, Frederick" Chrom started "We can't assume the worst of everyone, and what if it was true? We can't very well leave him here, alone and confused, and it would be wrong to kill him without proof." The stranger paled slightly at the last statement. "What sort of Shepherds would we be then?"

"So what is your suggestion?" Frederick asked after a moment.

Lissa decided to jump in on the conversation. "Why don't we take him to town, give him a room for the night, and be on our way! Then we don't have to be worried about him, and we don't have to carry a prisoner back to the capital!"

The stranger jumped in alarm. "Umm… what was that about being a prisoner?" He asked slowly.

Chrom laughed. "Don't worry; we'll just escort you to the nearest town. You don't need to bother yourself." Chrom continued to chuckle as the man relaxed. Frederick spoke up again.

"Well, if we want to get to the town in good time, we should just leave the search. If we can't ride on horses on the way back, it'll take almost to nightfall to return."

Lissa frowned. "Why can't he double up with one of us?" She asked.

Frederick started to walk away, looking over his shoulder. "Because I don't entirely trust that man."

The walk back, despite Frederick's cautions, was relatively uneventful. They managed to get to the point of easy conversation with the stranger quickly, and found him to be fairly witty when he wanted to be. A brief discussion of Ylisse and Ylissian politics revealed his fast learning ability and the ease at which he grasped foreign concepts. They surveyed the scenery together while leading the horses, with the stranger looking like he had never looked at something so beautiful. _Which,_ Chrom thought _I suppose would be true. It must be extremely disconcerting to have your own personality, speech pattern, and muscle memories but not have the memories themselves._ They continued to talk of whatever came to mind as they neared town.

The only truly interesting thing happened as they were rounding the last copse of trees before entering sight of town. The stranger suddenly stopped mid-laugh at one of Lissa's better jokes and stared off into the distance with a look of wonder spreading over his face. Chrom looked at him curiously.

"What, what is it?" he asked. The stranger collected himself and turned around to face Chrom. He walked up to him, trembling with excitement. He then presented his hand with a barely contained expression of glee.

"It is good to meet you, Chrom. I would like to introduce myself. My name is Robin, and I wou-" Robin sputtered on the last line, before bursting out into laughter and falling over.

After looking on for a few moments, Chrom burst into laughter as well. After giving themselves a minute to recover, Chrom helped Robin up again. "So your name is Robin, eh? Did it just come to you?" Robin allowed another absurdly happy grin through.

"Yup. You have no idea how much better I feel. Almost like I was floating before and I just got my feet on the ground again."

Frederick leaned down from where he was leading the other horses to whisper to Lissa "Someone pay this actor. I find myself being convinced." Lissa turned to glare at him.

"Frederick! Be nice!" She hissed. Frederick just rolled his eyes to heaven as he sat back up on his horse, breathing a silent prayer to Naga that one day they might realize why he did what he did.

Just then, they rounded the trees, and all laughter stopped. After a stunned moment, Lissa broke the silence. "Th-The town is burning!" The church still stood; it was made of stone. However, much of the town wasn't as lucky. Several of the smaller buildings near the now shattered palisade were burned to their foundations already. Many more were burning. Chrom could see shapes moving between houses, but it was too far away to see if they were townspeople or bandits.

"Damn it!" Chrom turned and mounted his stallion, then helped Lissa up behind him; she wasn't as good at riding as he was, so they would go faster riding double. "We have to go now; it has to be bandits!" Frederick readied his own warhorse, but paused and frowned.

"What about Robin?"

Chrom growled in frustration, eager to be off. "Unless he's on fire as well, he can wait!" Chrom all but shouted. Frederick, calm as ever, smiled slightly.

"Of course, my liege. Aptly put." Without another word they squeezed the horses' flanks and raced off towards the town. Chrom thought he heard Robin call behind them, but couldn't be bothered to stop now, not when lives were at stake.

As they got closer, it became even more apparent that there was no other explanation except a bandit raid. The fields that were being harvested earlier that day were burned, and any grain left unharvested was spoiled, with no sign of the farmers. Chrom growled to himself again. _They must have come after Stahl and Sully left. Otherwise they would have harassed the bandits in the open fields where they have the advantage._

His rage grew as he rode towards the town. He could see the figures clearly now, and they were most defiantly bandits. He would have charged right into the fray if he hadn't heard another horse ride up beside him. Looking over, he saw that Robin had mounted Lissa's horse and was riding with a skill not often seen. The shock of seeing the man riding was enough that Chrom snapped out of his rage for a moments, allowing him to hear what he was saying.

"GET OFF THE ROAD! GO FOR THAT HOUSE!" Robin was frantic, waving his arms and shouting over the noise of galloping horses to make himself heard. He indicated where he was talking about with a quick gesture. Chrom gave a brief nod to show he had understood, and turned his horse to follow his instructions. Frederick followed behind, wary of bandits who hadn't entered the town.

They stopped beside a larger house that hadn't been consumed by flames yet. They could hear the bandits laughing as they burned and looted the town. The sounds grew louder each time they found another group of villagers to take as hostages. _Why did we stop? We could have charged right through them!_ Chrom hurriedly got of the horse he had been sharing with Lissa and marched to Robin with a frustrated look on his face. Robin got off his borrowed horse, which Chrom realized had been Lissa's. However, Frederick beat him to the questions.

"Why have we halted?" the perplexed knight asked, echoing Chrom's thoughts. "We could have scattered them with the first charge! And when did you learn how to ride?" Robin had left the witty persona behind; Chrom could see it in his face. His eyes had lost the glint of humor that they carried before, and had replaced it with a cunning gleam.

"I'll answer the last question first, because it's easier to do. I can ride because I feel like I've done it before. I just looked at the saddle and it happened. I've evidently done it enough to have the movements engrained into my sub-conscious." Lissa gave a look that told everyone in the group that she hadn't understood a word of what Robin had said, but he continued anyway. "As for the first question, I could tell by the way you rode that you have a ground based fighting style, not a mounted based. Not to mention the length of your sword." Chrom looked down at Falchion, realizing that Robin was right: he wouldn't have been able to draw, much less strike, from horseback. "If you had charged in, you would have lost momentum, been surrounded, and promptly killed. If we are going to do this we need to do it right."

Chrom settled for a moment, and then became anxious again. "Well, what do we do? People are suffering, and if we wait too long, they'll just become bored and start killing people!" Robin spread his hands in a calming gesture.

"Wait until I explain before rushing out, okay?" After getting the grudging nod from Chrom, he outlined his plan. "If Frederick charges straight in, he won't have the maneuverability he's used to, so I'm going to have you charging through the side streets. Try not to engage anyone for more than a few seconds, just hit and run, and prevent escape. Good?" Frederick thought for a second, then looked at Chrom. After Chrom nodded, he acquiesced and mounted his horse.

Turning to Chrom and Lissa, Robin grinned. "We get the simple part. Charge in, swords drawn, and hack our way through the enemy force, preferably using multiple dirty tricks and a massive portion of luck. Lissa follows and heals wounds." Chrom stared at Robin dubiously.

"That's what you are telling us to do? That's what you told me NOT to do just before!"

"There's a difference." Robin told him, unperturbed. "Before you were about to go in on horseback, and now Frederick is dividing attention and thinning numbers. Also, we both use swords, and the enemy uses axes."

Chrom shrugged, conceding the point. "One more question, before proceeding with this harebrained scheme of yours: where did you get this knowledge? You seem to know a lot for an amnesic."

Robin simply shrugged. "I caught a glimpse of what we were to face as we came into the town. A simple analyzation of what they've done to the town thus far brings me to the conclusion that they have no sense of strategy whatsoever, not to mention the fact that they don't seem to have enough brains between them to loot BEFORE they burn. And I figured out your roles in combat with a quick look at how you carry yourselves." Robin turned to Chrom in this moment. "By the way, watch the backswing; I don't want to lose my head."

Chrom glowered at him for a moment before muttering. "Showoff." Robin grinned.

"I'm almost certain that I've studied it somewhere. Strategy, I mean. Now, you ready for this?

Chrom gave a grin of satisfaction. "I'm taking point."

"So, my snow-haired strategist, what next?" Chrom asked sarcastically. The both of them were huddled behind a piece of rumble that was slowly being chipped away by a pair of mages. Lissa was hiding behind another, similar stack of rock a few feet away. However, the evidence of their work was strewn across the courtyard behind them: six axe-wielding bandits, dispatched by the pair of swift swords.

"I didn't count on mages, okay?" Robin muttered, sticking his head around the pile of stones before pulling it back again as a blast of fire blew out a portion of the brick they were hiding behind. He sat against the rocks and began rooting through his cloak pockets as if something in there might have the power to save them. "Besides, you insisted on going first." Chrom sighed and looked around his side of the pile. He only caught the general position of the two mages before ducking back again as a series of blade-like wind blasts struck the place where his head has a second ago.

 _Damn it, they're advancing._ He thought. _I hope Robin has a real ace up his sleeve right now… oh. Is that what I think it is?_ Chrom had turned back to robin to find he had pulled out an old-looking leather-bound book. "Is that a tome? You know magic?" He asked, hope blossoming.

Robin just frowned. "I… I believe so? I suppose I should check." Chrom's eyes widened as his hope turned into worry.

"You believe so?" A frown settled on his face as he considered that statement. Magic tomes were not in large amounts in any market. Only certain merchants had license to sell them, and they couldn't even sell to anyone who didn't have some form of official mark to show they were mages. _And for good reason!_ Chrom thought. _If I remember correctly, the histories tell us that there was a large landmass near Origin Island until a mage's apprentice got his hands on an ancient copy of Valflame._ "I'll just stay behind you for a while…"

Robin was quick to placate his new ally's fears. "No, don't worry. I'm sure I can control it." opening the book, he looked over the first pages and nodded a couple of times. "Now, how does this work again… ah, yes. Of course." Chrom's eyebrow began to escape into his hairline.

"You realize you aren't exactly inspiring confidence, right?" Chrom asked as he chanced another look around the rubble. Robin simply grinned in response.

"Would a plan as to how we are to proceed raise your spirits?" Chrom's eager nod gave Robin all the confidence he needed. "Ok, in a moment, I'll create a distraction, and you charge out and take out the mages." Chrom's eyebrow returned to its original position on his upper forehead.

"That's your plan? I thought you said you had studied tactics."

"Sometimes the simplest plans are the best. Besides, I only said that I thought I had studied. I don't remember anything."

Chrom glowered in a joking manner. "You sure seem to remember things fine now! Fine, if it gets us out of here. On my mark?" they both prepared to run, and when Robin nodded, Chrom called out. "Now!"

He watched Robin run out, counted two seconds, then bolted straight at the mages. _They're distracted alright. Where did the fire mage's face go?_ There seemed to be a void where the face in question was supposed to be. But before taking in any more details, he reached the other mage. Preforming a quick spin to dodge the hastily cast wind spell, he brought Falchion around to cut the mage down. The threat temporarily gone, he called Lissa out and waved to Robin before looking at the fire mage. His eyes widened as he realized what had happened. A lightning spell had stuck the man square in the face and removed any identifying features, leaving a blank, black, mask behind.

Chrom gave a low whistle as Robin walked up. "Looks like you're a pretty good shot." He said, indicating the corpse. Robin just pointed at Chrom's right arm.

"Well, it looks like you could use some improvement on the dodging department. Or maybe the armour." Chrom looked down at his right arm and realized he hadn't fully dodged the wind spell. _I really need to have a talk with Frederick about that arm._ Lissa grabbed his bleeding arm and began healing it. Chrom looked ahead while he waited.

Robin was doing the same. "Looks like a couple more run-of-the-mill bandits, one sword-user, and their leader." He said. "The sword user is probably going to be the most trouble if we get caught up in a dual. Depending on how good he is, we should take him first. We can deal with the normal bandits ourselves, but I don't know about the leader. Is he the kind to hide behind his underlings, or does he actually fight?"

They quietly observed as the leader seized a village girl by the arm and threatened her with a small throwing axe. After laughing at her squirming for a moment, he threw her back with the hostages. Robin's gaze hardened, and Chrom felt rage building up inside. Robin turned to Chrom and outlined his plan.

"First off, I'll hit the swordsman with magic, and then we both draw swords and take out the normal bandits. If the boss fights, we strike him down. If he turns and runs, we do the same. Sound good?" Chrom nodded his assent. Lissa gave them both a last once-over for wounds and then shooed them off.

"Go on, then. Don't make me heal you again!" Chrom rolled his eyes, then readied Falchion. Exchanging a glance with Robin, they both broke into a run.

This time, Chrom had a good view of the spell casting process. Robin extended his arm as he ran, reading from his tome. When he looked up, his eyes seemed to glow slightly with unreleased power. With a shout of "Thunder!" a bolt of lightning flew from his hand and blasted the swordsman off his feet. The power faded from his eyes, and he tucked his tome into an inner pocket of his cloak. Swiftly drawing his sword, he ran ahead to engage the first bandit. Chrom realized with a start that he had slowed to watch Robin's spellcasting. Growling to himself, he surged to the next bandit.

Chrom met the bandit head on, blocking an overhead swing from his axe. He held the axe before pushing the man off balance and giving a horizontal swing aimed at his midsection. The bandit barely managed to block it, and fell over, tangling his arms with the axe. Chrom allowed the man to get up, then charged him again. It only took two more strikes, one to disarm, and the other through the gut. The bandit fell over and tried to stem the bleeding.

Chrom looked over to the bandit leader. He had just thrown an axe at Robin, who, having already dealt with his bandit, was trying to engage the head of the snake. Unfortunately for Robin, this man seemed to be the more competent type of superior. He had a bag of axes at his waist, took aim before throwing, and never gave enough time for Robin to come in close. Chrom decided to just run at him and hope for the best.

Unleashing a brutal war cry, Chrom rushed the man, holding Falchion parallel to the ground. The bandit turned and threw an axe, which Chrom had to bring up Falchion to block. But Robin took this time to get in close. When the bandit turned back to Robin, he was right in front of him, with his sword ready. "Checkmate."

Robin removed his sword from the dead bandit's gut. He turned to Chrom with a relived smile on his face. Chrom grinned in response as he sheathed Falchion. As he did so, he heard a slight shuffle from behind him. Robin's face paled. Before Chrom knew what was happening, Robin was rushing him. He backpedaled slightly, trying to understand why his newest ally was doing this. At the last moment, Robin lowered his shoulder and slammed into him, throwing Chrom to the ground.

As Chrom rolled he heard a strange sound. He looked up and saw Robin clutching his stomach, with something protruding… _A Sword?!_

The swordsman Chrom had thought Robin had dropped with thunder magic was behind Robin. Withdrawing the sword, he walked around Robin's collapsing body. Chrom scrambled to his feet, wrenching Falchion from his sheath. His face twisted into a glare, directed at the man who had hurt his comrade-in-arms. The swordsman readied his stance and didn't move further, so Chrom struck first. The man's block was fast, flashing from his ready stance to intercept the broadsword threatening the wielder, but he winced and gave a little as he met Falchion. Chrom's gaze quickly flicked to the scorched sleeve of the bandit. _He can't exert his full physical strength. Heh, then I'll give him reason to try._ Chrom pushed on Falchion, forcing the enemy to jump back to avoid immediate decapitation.

From there, he didn't give the enemy time to rest. Running forward, he delivered a few wild slices that the swordsman dodged, leaping and ducking out of the way. Chrom had to be careful not to overextend and give his opponent an opening. Finally, he forced his enemy to block a single blow, but it was more than enough. The cross slash blew the blade out of the swordsman's hand, and Chrom wasted no time in putting the enemy on the ground with a new wound through his middle. He looked at the fallen enemy for a few seconds before remembering Robin.

"Lissa, come here; Robin's hurt!" He rushed to Robin's side and took the cloak off his back. Rolling him over to have a better look at the wound, he noticed a strange stream of purple light cross his vision. Frowning, he put it out of his mind as he tried to stem the bleeding.

Lissa rushed up and shooed her brother away. Realizing that he couldn't do anything, he yielded without complaint, but it didn't stop him from pacing anxiously a few feet away. The light from Lissa's healing staff shone brightly, and it didn't stop for a whole minute. There was nothing for Chrom to do but wait and hope.

After an imagined eternity, Lissa got up and stepped away from Robin. Chrom immediately crouched beside the man. "Is he okay?" Lissa simply poked Robin in the face, prompting a light groan and a little bit of muttering. Chrom chuckled and offered his hand to the prone figure. "Come on, the ground can't be that comfortable. We woke you up once today, so we really shouldn't have to do it again." Robin cracked open one eye and glared at Chrom.

"Contrary to popular belief, the ground is actually extremely comfortable." He closed his eye, then sighed. "Fine… I'll get up!" He reached out and grasped Chrom's hand. The purple streaming glow returned, faint this time, but there. Chrom finally found the source; the back of Robin's hand. A tattoo depicting six eyes that trailed into simple lines which wound together into nothingness glowed purple. After a moment, the glow disappeared, followed by the tattoo. Chrom was curious, but Frederick arrived in the courtyard as Robin regained his feet, and all thoughts of the strange mark disappeared.

"Sire, I've swept the town, and no bandits seem to remain. I believe we are safe." At the last statement villagers began to emerge from the houses. A few ran over to the hostages and worked to undo the ropes that bound them. Within a minute, the town was bustling again.

Exhausted, Chrom walked over to the corner of the ruined thoroughfare and collapsed as his adrenaline wore off. He was soon joined by Robin and Lissa. They looked as stressed as Chrom felt. Lissa turned to look at Robin.

"Didn't I tell you not to get hurt?"

Robin just leaned his head against the wall behind him. "Actually, your exact words were 'Don't make me heal you again'. I didn't force you to heal me. You did that of your own free will."

Lissa rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. What did you do to get hurt so bad? It didn't hit anything major, but it was big and you lost a lot of blood."

"I was saving your brother from being impaled."

Lissa's head whipped around to glare daggers at Chrom. Before she could berate him, Chrom decided to change the topic. "By the way, Robin, your cloak is ruined." That produced a significantly distracting reaction; Robin sat bolt upright and turned to Lissa for confirmation.

"Is he telling the truth? Please tell me he's wrong." Lissa shook her head.

"Nope, it's gone. Several nicks along the edges, a sword hole in the back, and whole lot of blood all over it. You aren't going to get that one back." She paused to give Robin a mischievous, if tired, grin. "Maybe you should have been more careful…"

Frederick walked up to address the small group. Robin glared at his still-impeccable armour.

"How did he do that…? I will find out how he did that. It can't be possible for it to come out so clean…" Chrom just chuckled.

 _Good luck figuring that one out, Robin. I've never seen more than a speck of dirt on that armour._

Frederick bowed as he addressed the group. "Milord and lady might want to get up now. The village elder wishes to thank you, and it might be better to speak to him in the square, standing up, rather than… well… here." Chrom spared a quick glance at his surroundings –a dark, secluded, corner of the courtyard, a couple piles of rubble from the building's roof, and what looked like a dead cat – and had to agree that this was no place to talk. A place to rest, maybe, but not to talk. Groaning slightly, he stood up.

Robin attempted to follow suit, but collapsed before he was halfway up. "What… why am I so tired?"

Lissa explained as she rose and stretched. "The wound in your back was healed, but not without cost. Every time you are healed, it takes your own energy to heal it. It used to be that healers would provide the energy, but that ended with far too many dead healers, so the technique was refined to draw from the patient. However, the larger the wound, the more energy required. Patients have died because their hearts gave out after being healed. You should count yourself lucky. I was worried you wouldn't wake for days after that wound."

Robin nodded as he ingested this information. "Ok, that explains something. Any more factors to take into consideration?"

"Yeah, the longer the wound has been left, the more energy it takes to heal it. If a man with a small cut on his leg was healed as soon as he got it, there would be little to no noticeable difference in how he felt. If he was treated after an hour, it would feel as if all the energy it would have taken over time is withdrawn at once. Any longer than that, and it wouldn't be worth it to heal him unless it was life threatening."

Chrom interjected himself into the conversation. "As interesting as this is, we need to go now. Need help, Robin?" The white-haired man groaned and extended his hand.

After helping Robin to his feet, the group walked to the church doors. Robin stumbled occasionally, but made no complaint. The village elder thanked them with a rather long speech and offered anything in the village for their taking.

Chrom was about to decline when Frederick stepped forward. "Actually, I think you can help us. Would you have four extra bedrolls prepared and tell us where we might find a horse for sale?" Chrom glanced at him, but said nothing and waited for an opportunity to question him in private.

"Of course, we can supply the bedrolls. We can give you the horse too, free of charge." The elder smiled, happy to be able to do something for the heroes that saved his town.

As he walked away, Chrom turned to Frederick. "Why are we getting extra bedrolls and a horse? We have all we need at the inn."

Frederick spoke nonchalantly. "Well, the inn burnt down in the bandit attack, so I figured we will need more supplies."

Lissa's mouth dropped. "The inn burnt down!? I had all my extra clothes in there!"

"Well, milady, you'll be rouging it for a few days. If you want extras, you should hurry and catch the elder. Bring Robin along so he can pick his horse."

Robin paled slightly before Lissa grabbed his hand and dragged him across the square, not realizing he was barely maintaining his footing as she did so.

After watching them leave, Frederick turned to Chrom and spoke in a hushed voice. "Milord, did you notice? All the bandits spoke in Plegian accents. I checked the bag of the leader, and he had official documents on him, the type that only a Plegian officer would have."

Chrom's eyes widened at the news. "Then the rumors are true. Plegia is trying to incite war. We need to get back to the capital to warn my sister immediately."

"I suggest starting out today. Every hour spent waiting is another hour wasted."

Looking to the horizon, Chrom realized there was little daylight left. _A couple hours, no more. We would barely start riding before dark would be upon us… but if the Plegians are trying to start a war, I can see why Frederick would suggest such haste._

Chrom nodded. "Right. We leave as soon as our horses are ready."

As he said this, Robin and Lissa rounded a corner, Robin looking even more tired than before, and leading a grey stallion with a full set of tack already on. Lissa bounced ahead of the weary amnesiac, an excited look on her face. Chrom turned to Frederick.

"You're telling her we need to leave."

 **A/N: Whew. That took longer than expected. Sorry for the wait, but a large amount of time was dedicated to figuring out what I want to all do with this story. So it was time well spent. In other news, the dreaded, horrible, terrifying, GHASTLY things they refer to as... exams... *shudders* are approaching quickly. I most likely will not send out another chapter this month. So... yeah. Constructive criticism is good, so leave a review or PM me sometime. Thanks in advance.**


	3. Chapter Two: Future's End

It was evening, but there was no sunlight. There hadn't been any sunlight the whole day. Neither had there been the day before. The sun still shone, of course, but a thick layer of dark clouds covered the sky, continually rolling, writhing, and twisting. They had covered the sky for years, never breaking away to let a single gleam of the life-giving flame in the sky to make its way to the ground.

The ground itself was an unwelcome sight. A massive plain of dull red dust, with no movement marking its surface, save when the dry wind tossed sandy ground into a brief flight. Not a single blade of grass or tree broke the desolate scene. It extended for kilometers in every direction, stopping only when reaching a mountain range.

Even these mighty mountains were not spared from the desolation. The rock was scarred, as if giant talons had scraped across their surface. They extended above the clouds, but looked as if they had been conquered by them and seemed to hunch down under the heavy weight of the sky. Neither plants nor animals were to be seen on the surface, leaving only barren rock. They were in a rough circle, surrounding the largest mountain.

This mountain seemed least effected by the malady that had ruined the world. Though it had been beautiful in its time, it was crumbling like the rest of its' sister peaks. The shell of ground that sheltered the monolith had been broken in places, revealing veins of weakened ores running through the stone. On one side, the rock was carved out on one side to form a large flat ledge.

On this ledge sat a large temple, though it looked more like a fortress. A square wall with guard towers encircled it, thick enough for two men to walk abreast the whole way around. The inner courtyard had several small, dilapidated buildings, worn out from the climates' constant wear. In the center the main portion of the church rose, a stark reminder of the once proud days of man. Old columns of faded white rock strained to hold the heavy stone roof. The doorway of the temple, once covered in proud oak doors, now lay open with the doors in dry splinters. Above it sat a sigil, a tear-shaped mark cradled by a gracefully curving arc, faded but recognizable through the wear. The bell tower rose above it all, defiant still in its rapidly aging state.

While no windows existed at ground level, they were placed at regularly spaced intervals all around the building after the second floor and up the bell tower. These were empty and motionless, the curtains or shutters that would have covered them long since disintegrated. But high up in the bell tower, a single pair of blue eyes watched carefully, never missing a detail despite the long cerulean hair that stubbornly refused to stay out of her face.

The young woman was named Lucina, and at that moment, she felt the weight of the entire world on her shoulders. What remained of it, that is.

This had been the only time she had found to rest for years, but she realized that it was almost better to be continually busy. As she had tried to loosen up, memories of fallen comrades and past regrets popped repeatedly into her head. So she had left her room, without telling anyone, and climbed the tower to stand a silent watch. She heard people walking around in the floors below. While she could escape the memories by standing guard, she could not escape the weight of responsibility. The remnants of the human population on this continent, and possibly the entire world by now, were hiding in this temple, and Lucina couldn't bear to let this be the end.

Lucina frowned as the last thought crossed her mind. _The last I heard, Chon'sin nobles had gathered all remaining fighting forces at the fortress Steiger and pulled what remained of the population behind those walls. They should have been safe there - those walls are thick - but that report was the one just before we heard that both Grima and the Avatar had flown there personally. We haven't heard from them since, and that was… eight months ago._ She sighed heavily. _In that time, we managed to get all the New Shepherds ready for the field, but we lost most of the remaining Old Shepherds in that same time._

Memories surfaced once again, against the wishes of their owner. An image of a mage in pale blue robes being run through in a Risen ambush, the disbelief on the face of a heavily armored knight as Risen swarmed over him. A red armored paladin shouting insults as she drove into the hoard of walking corpses, never to come out again. Lucina shook her head as if to throw the memories out.

Footsteps ascending the stairs provided a welcome distraction for Lucina, and she turned to the stairwell. A head with a messy mop of hair stuck its way into the small chamber. This and the harsh line of his mouth were the only features that could be seen, however. The man's eyes and nose were covered with a wing shaped mask with a strange dark glass over the eye holes. Still, he could still see through them well, as he caught sight of the princess immediately.

He nodded once at her by way of greeting and entered the room in which she stood. Walking silently, he joined her and looked out on the desolate landscape she had been staring at for the past few hours. After a few seconds, she began examining him out of the corner of her eye. He wore light black armour over a baggy black tunic and pants. His armour was angular and even jagged in places, but managed to pull off an illusion of flatness. It was surprisingly sparse, covering only the locations that truly would need it, those being the chest, shoulders, forearms, and a bit on the legs to deter hamstringing. The rest was covered only by the thin clothes he wore underneath, allowing for a full range of movement.

Lucina's eyes drifted back up to the man's face, and she almost sighed. _He's distant. It's almost like he doesn't have any emotions at all. I wish he would come out of his shell, but he's been this way ever since…_

Gerome did sigh and without moving said "You're doing it again."

Lucina gave a start, surprised out of her reverie. "Doing what?"

Finally turning to her, he simply said "Ignoring yourself."

Stunned, she stepped back for a second before returning to her original position, but this time contemplating his words. A long moment passed as they stood studying the fading world. But the further Lucina thought about it, the more she was confused by his statement.

"What do you mean by that?" She asked. The only response at first was a look from the stoic man, indecipherable behind the mask he wore.

"Just what I said. You are ignoring your own feelings to look after the others who are around you, bottling up your emotions without thought." The corners of his mouth turned downward. "What happens when the bottle isn't big enough anymore?"

Lucina blinked once before regaining her composure and shooting back defensively at the masked man.

"You're one to talk! I haven't seen you without that mask since-" Gerome abruptly turned away and walked back to the staircase. He stopped at the top and spoke without looking back.

"Your aunt is looking for you. She wants to talk to all of us. I suggest you find her." His dry, emotionless tone told Lucina she had struck a deep nerve, one that still hurt. Realizing her mistake, she tried to call him back, but he was down the stairs faster than seemed possible, almost running in his haste. Lucina slumped back, regret filling her as she leaned against the window frame.

 _Why do I have to blurt out everything that comes to mind?_ She wondered. _I will have to apologize later… but I know I won't find him for a while. I might as well go find Aunt Lissa._

Dismissing further negative thoughts, she set off down the stairs.

* * *

Lissa proved harder to find than Lucina had anticipated, so she took an impromptu tour of the temple instead. No matter where she looked she couldn't find her aunt, so she ended up speaking to a lot of the survivors. The mood was for the most part the same. They would be almost trembling when she entered the room, and as soon as she asked they would admit to being scared. But they soon lost their timidity and began boasting about how they couldn't loose, not here, and certainly not if the great Princess Lucina leads them!

Lucina was uncomfortable with the hero-worship, but didn't let it show. All she could do was try to affirm their hopes and leave before they brought out drinks and raised a toast in her honor. However, room after room she searched, and she still couldn't find Lissa. Walking down the huge main hallway, she tried to think of every place that Lissa could be. _We haven't been here long, so could she have gotten lost? She could have been looking for me and-_

Lucina's thoughts were interrupted quite suddenly as she stumbled away from the heavy armoured man she'd hit in her distraction. A strong hand grabbed her shoulder to prevent her from falling. She looked up quickly to see who it was that she had run into, but relaxed when she heard a quiet but defining chuckle from him.

"You should be more careful where you lose touch with reality. You might end up losing your head." Another kindly chuckle followed this statement, causing Lucina to blush slightly in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Jerald. I was looking for Aunt Lissa, and I can't find her anywhere." She finally looked up at Jerald as she said this. Jerald was a man in his mid-thirties, but he looked much older. His hair was pure silver already, and smile lines crossed his face, making him look like a kindly old grandfather. He was a tall, thin man, but a great deal of strength resided in his frame. The look of strength was enhanced by his armour, a full suite of interlocking plates and extended shoulder guards, with a broad belt holding it together along with a decorative pendant hanging down to his knees. A kite shield with a wide bottom was latched lengthwise to his forearm, and a long sword with a winged guard sat at his side. The whole suite was red and white, the colours of East Ferox.

Jerald's quiet laughter brought Lucina back into focus again. "Have you asked anyone where she is yet, or have you been chasing your own tail this whole time?" He asked.

Lucina flushed beet red in embarrassment as she realized her mistake, bring more jovial laughter out of the man. Before she could muster anything to say, he flung an arm around her shoulders and began to march her to the inner sanctum at the end of the hall.

Jerald had been the ruling Khan of Regna Ferox for several years. Unlike West Ferox, which descended into chaos when Khan Basilio and High Khan Flavia died trying to prevent Grima's rise, East Ferox immediately chose a new leader. Jerald was swift in reorganizing the command structure of the army, ensuring that individual squads could function separately rather than the previous system, in which the armies reported almost directly to the Khans. After doing this, he struck out into West Ferox - which had been all but conquered by the Risen - and retook it, the first and last major campaign that resulted in the retaking of land from the Risen. Once Grima and the Avatar began to attack major cities – and proceed to obliterate them - Jerald and his remaining armies and citizens fled to Ylisstol. After that, he became one of the three Generals of the Council of Nations, which was essentially what the remaining peoples on the continent became out of necessity.

For several years, the Council of Nations operated out of Ylisstol, trying to martial the forces to regain territory, even as Grima obliterated Plegia and the Avatar destroyed Themis and other city-states single handedly. There were a few victories, but ground was always lost in the end. Lucina eventually grew enough to wield Falchion, and began leading the armies alongside Jerald and Sir Kellam after Libra fell in battle. Jerald guided Lucina in her first operations in commanding troops, only returning to his own position once she was confidant in her ability. Eventually Ylisstol itself was attacked and the Council was forced to become nomadic in nature. The temple they were currently in was the first permanent location in two years.

As they arrived at the large doors at the end of the hallway, Lucina finally threw off Jerald's arm, only to stop and stare up at the immense structures before her. The stone doors were easily three times the height of an average man, and were inlaid with metal designs that spread across the entire surface. The biggest design was a massive representation of the Brand of the Exalt, around which all the other designs seemed to dance.

Jerald too, stopped to admire the glittering behemoths that stood before them. A long minute passed before Lucina stepped forward to lay a hand on the door. "I assume Aunt Lissa is in here?" she asked. Jerald nodded silently, so Lucina pushed on the door.

They opened quite easily, despite the size. Sliding inwards with nary a creak to be heard, they revealed a chamber without any discerning features, save another, smaller set of doors at the end. Lucina crossed the distance quickly while Jerald entered and closed the large doors behind him, setting a massive crossbar into place to prevent unnecessary visitors.

The second set of doors opened as easily as the first. Lucina strode in, followed by Jerald, who didn't pause to lock the doors this time. This room, however, had much more to see.

Huge arches held by meter-thick pillars supported a ceiling that seemed to replace the sky. The long room was filled with luminescence, despite the fact that torches were the only apparent source of light in the room. Colourful tapestries hung from the walls, and the polished floor reflected the colours. At the end of the chamber stood an altar, a white stone table with statue of a golden dragon resting on top. There was little doubt in Lucina's mind that it was made of actual gold, and possibly sapphires for the eyes. Behind the altar stood a freestanding arch made of the same white stone as everything else in the chapel-like room.

All this was taken in by the Princess in an instant, even if it wasn't all processed. Her eyes were focused on the group of people and mounts standing beside the altar. They stood in a rough circle, but there was space for more. _They must have been waiting for me._

As the group at the end of the chamber was completely silent, Lucina and Jerald broke the quiet like shattering glass with their footsteps. In the midst of this, the room seemed interminable, making Lucina roll her shoulders and glance around the room again, to make sure nothing was missed. She swept an eye over the faces in the circle and realized that it was primarily made up of the New Shepherds and the remaining members of the Council. A quick headcount and look at the mounts off to the side – a warhorse, a pegasus, and a wyvern - confirmed this.

The three primary sword wielders were grouped together looking generally – and unusually – calm. Inigo was quiet and not flirting for once, and Owain wasn't posing either, though that was probably due to Severa standing on his foot.

Next to them stood Darren and Brady, the former alternating between twirling his father's spear and running his hand through his short blond hair. He seemed to have just polished his armour, despite the fact that he never took it off. The latter simply looked bored as he fiddled with his violin case.

Laurent, Noire, and Nah stood together and seemed to be nervous. Laurent's study book was in his hip bag for once, and he kept checking to make sure it was there, as well as pushing his glasses back onto his nose. Noire was having a challenge making herself as small as possible as she anxiously plucked at her bow string. Nah stood, perfectly erect and almost keeping up the façade of complete equanimity, but her shifting feet marked her otherwise. Cynthia stood like she had just been conversing with the three before Lucina entered, and now fidgeted restlessly a few feet away. She held a small triangular shape in her hands, turning it over and over as she stared at it, almost as if wondering if it held a secret.

Kjelle seemed to stand alone, but upon closer inspection, a pair of trembling rabbit ears stood over her shoulder, rotating constantly. Kjelle looked like she didn't notice, but it was more likely that she just didn't care.

Gerome stood only slightly apart from the others, but looked to be truly alone. He lent on his long handled axe, staring at a small blue object in his other hand. As Lucina drew closer he hid the object in the pouch at his waist. His posture was stiff, but unlike his companions', unreadable.

The rest of the people there were members of the Council. A broad shouldered Plegian man with a scar over one eye stood next to a Ylissian sage and a war cleric from Regna Ferox. An archer with a black scarf wrapped around their face stood beside a thief with a red cloak and a tricky smile. A noble with blue robes and an impressive looking rapier was shoulder to shoulder with a barbaric looking man with a wolf pelt as a cape and an animal skull as a helm. A couple more mages, one with red hair and a green dress, and another with blond hair, glasses, and a dark purple dress flanked a tall, serious looking swordsman, a round shield strapped across his back. A man with a red cape and a jagged sword stood back from the rest, but despite a casual stance, his attentive eyes swept the room, burning with some inner rage.

The last member of the Council seemed to be dressed to attract the least attention, but she was by far the most noticeable. She wore a dull grey dress that matched the pair of pony tails that hung over her shoulders. Smile lines outpaced the wrinkles for dominance on her face, but no smile existed there now. Her wide blue eyes seemed to glow, reflecting the light in a way no one else could replicate as she looked into her niece's eyes.

Lucina stopped as she entered the circle and nodded to her friends before bowing respectfully to the last living member of the old Shepherds. "Sorry for being late, Aunt Lissa. I did not know where to find you."

Lissa's only response was a nod. Turning to face the whole gathering, she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, as if bracing for a wave.

"Alright. Now that we are all here, I can finally explain what's to happen. Many of you have expressed confusion regarding the direction we took after Ylisstol's fall, but you kept your questions for our Council, and no one heard their commanders doubt. For that, I'd like to thank you all." She took a quick pause here, regaining her breath as she made a little half-bow to the rest of the Council. "Also, you've contributed everything you have since the Council of Nations was formed to try and retake our lands, despite the hopelessness of the situation. Not only that, your leadership would be sorely missed if you had not helped, and for these things also, I'd like to thank you. As for your co-operation I'd lik-"

Lissa was suddenly cut off by the red-clad swordsman. "If you are going to say something worth saying, say it now. We are probably going to die soon, so I'd like nothing more than a reason as to why we are sitting in the bunker when we could be with our men." His gaze was almost projecting fire as he said this, but he maintained a relaxed pose, directly contradicting his irritated tone.

Everyone in the room straightened in shock at the swordsman's audacity before Lissa waved them back down with a small smile. "You speak words of wisdom, Matado. Thank you." She turned back to the rest of them, smile turning into a frown.

The reason we seek refuge in this temple is obvious to most that would look on our situation. The Temple of Naga has been a refuge for travelers since it was made, and even after Grima killed off the last of the monks here, Risen haven't invaded. These are very good reasons to come here, but the main reason is that a ray of hope exists here."

Many of the Council members and New Shepherds expressed variants of surprised expressions, cumulated in the thief falling on the floor in disbelieving laughter. He rolled there for a few seconds, giggling with mirth before sitting up suddenly. "Oh, wait. You're serious."

Lissa rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Yes, Matthew, I am serious. Now get off the floor." The thief got up with a rather sheepish expression on his face, shrugging as Lissa glared at him.

"Now then, back to the matter at hand. There is a rite that the Divine Dragon devised to correct the mistakes of the past. The history books are sketchy with the details, but we can send a group of soldiers to try and change the past itself. These people are to be collectively called the Future Past. This will be tricky, and hard on the soldiers, as one of the few things that is clear is that they won't be able to return to us after their job is over. They will be bound to the past as surely as if they had been born then."

A murmur of quiet conversation swept through the gathering, most agreeing that it might not be too bitter a draught to swallow.

Lissa held up a hand to quiet everyone before speaking. "I have given this matter serious thought, and have concluded that there is only one choice. Gathered here, in this room, are the greatest warriors humanity has left. The ones with the best chance of succeeding, however, are the young." Lissa extended her hand to the New Shepherds. "All in favor of sending the New Shepherds to the past to destroy the threat to humanity?"

Lucina froze in place, panicking. _They're sending us? But that's absurd! They all have far more experience in battle, and could probably do a far better job than us! We don't have the ability…_

Her thoughts trailed of as she scanned the New Shepherd's faces. They were all frozen from shock, whatever action they were taking at that moment being halted mid-task. Darren's spear-twirling was thrown out, the spear itself flying to the side. Cynthia had frozen as she was scratching dirt off the sole of her boot, lost her balance, and hit the floor. Yarne's head actually shot up over Kjelle's shoulder before he remembered himself and hid once more behind the shorter girl. Brady seemed to be caught picking his nose, which really didn't make for a good time-traveling-hero look, but he didn't look like he could pull himself together anytime soon.

Her shock increased as each member of the Council, one by one, affirmed their consent. The thief Matthew, Jerald, the scared Plegian, and even the skeptical Matado gave their votes in the affirmative. Lissa turned once more to the New Shepherds.

"New Shepherds, the Council has spoken. Will you accept our decision? Will you take up the mantle of the Future Past? Will you save this world?"

A long moment passed before Lucina realized that everyone was staring at HER. A discrete glance at the New Shepherds confirmed it. She turned slightly to look at Jerald. He gave her one of his grandfatherly smiles. Every eye in the room was on her, waiting to hear the decision. _Why do they have to look at me? Why isn't someone else saying it?_ She turned fully around to look into the faces of her friends. Every pair of eyes stared back, completely trusting. Lucina looked directly at Gerome, wondering if he still held what she said against her. The man stood, stoic as ever, giving her a slight nod of confirmation. He would follow her to the end.

Panic built up in her chest. _They trust me, but do they really believe I can lead them?_ They continued to look back at her, resolve not changing. _Must the mantle fall to me?_ Her little sister grinned confidently at her, raising her fists eagerly. The message was clear; she was ready. Suddenly, calm swept over Lucina. Determination rose in her, filling the void left behind.

 _They've put their complete trust in me, so I must ensure that trust wasn't misplaced!_

Lucina turned, cape swirling as she looked her aunt in the eye.

"We will do it." Lucina felt the others rising, gathering around behind her. "We accept the mantle of the Future Past. We will spit in the face of the Dark Dragon on the last day!"

The New Shepherds thrust their weapons into the air in agreement, raising a defiant war cry. Many in the Council joined in, shouting their defiance to the air, the chapel, the sky, and Grima.

Lucina suppressed a shiver, feeling as though eyes had flashed over them, dark and malevolent. They were gone in a moment, but fear blossomed in her chest. _Dear gods, what have I done?_

* * *

The Council meeting was over, and everyone was free to resume what duties they had, or to rest as they saw fit. However, no one seemed willing to leave the room just yet, so they separated into groups and talked over matters of lesser importance, such as guard shifts and food gathering. Lucina, however, had retreated behind one of the columns lining the chamber as soon as they had been dismissed. Her thoughts had become an incomprehensible whirlwind. Sliding to the floor of the chamber, she groaned softly.

In this position she remained for several minutes, trying to regain order in her thoughts. Her thought trap was only broken by a hand extending into her vision. It was covered in a black glove, and after that, a black sleeve, which Lucina's eyes followed up to find Gerome, seemingly without emotion under the unblinking mask, but somehow emanating concern.

Suddenly realizing that she had been crying, Lucina swept a hand across her face to strike the tears away, hoping to hide it from her friend. Gerome sighed and grabbed her hand, pulling her upright. "Lucina, why are you crying?" he asked.

Lucina shook her head, hopelessly refusing to tell him. "I was not crying." She protested weakly.

"But you were! I just saw you wipe your face!"

Her protest was louder this time, with more strength to it, but still a blatant lie. "I told you, I was not crying!"

Gerome opened his mouth, but seemed to reconsider and drop the argument. Instead, he gripped her shoulder and asked "Are you going to be okay?"

Lucina opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Shutting it quickly, she just shook her head. Tears began to flow again, and Gerome slumped slightly. Then, stunning even herself, Lucina rushed forward, grabbing Gerome in a hug. Gerome stiffened, taken aback by the sudden invasion of his personal space, and tried to wriggle his way out, but Lucina tightened her hold as she soaked his shoulder. Finally relaxing slightly, he gingerly wrapped his own arms around her shoulders. She couldn't see it, but his face was a mask of disbelief. He had known that his friend was stressed, but he hadn't realized that it was this bad.

This way they remained for a minute or two, Lucina crying out her feelings, and Gerome standing awkwardly, simply being there for his friend.

This was interrupted by Cynthia walking around the large column, completely oblivious to what was happening.

"Hey Gerome, I would come out if I were you! We're about to start, and Minerva's getting restles – eep!"

Lucina didn't even lift her head to look, she just kept crying silently. Gerome, however, directed a look of such menace that it was felt and received even beyond his mask. Cynthia paled slightly, then ran off to find somewhere to hide.

Gerome sighed, then nudged Lucina a little. "Come on. If you don't let go soon, more will come looking for us."

Lucina burrowed her face into his shoulder, not wanting to come to reality. "I can't lead you. I don't have the strength to… why did you all trust me?"

Gerome pushed her away gently. She started to wipe away her tears, but her eyes were red from crying, and her face was unmistakably downturned.

"We accepted your lead because you have the strength to deal with it." He said flatly. Lucina's face shot up, glaring, and he held up his hands as if to defend his face. "It's true! Look at what we've had to live through! You've been at the forefront of it all, even in the final defense of Ylisstol, with Grima breathing down our necks! No matter what we were facing, you took command, and we've lived this long because of it!"

Lucina turned her face downward. "Not all of us…" she muttered, barely moving her lips.

"Listen, that was never your fault in the first place!" He stopped before continuing with a softer tone of voice. "You have to lead us again, Lucina. To the past. We need you."

"But I can't lead you guys anymore! I can't face you as your leader! I won't because I will fail!" She almost sobbed again. "How did the hero-king Marth hold up under his command… I wish I could know his strength." Her head drooped. "I don't think I could look any of you in the eye anymore. Not…"

Gerome reached behind him and pulled out a small, blue mask. "Then don't lead us as Lucina. Lead us as Marth." He extended the mask to her.

Her eyes widened as she reached out and touched the mask tenderly, memories surfacing of a time long before their parents died. Games as children, echoing the old stories. Lucina insisted on being Marth, but several of her friends protested because of the gender difference. This frustrated Lucina to no end until she got some help from her friends. A small mask from Gerome, and some hair styling advice from her sister, and she emerged looking enough like a boy to fool almost everyone she knew.

This mask was more intricate than her childhood one, reminiscent of a butterfly, with high, sweeping wings to cover her eyes. The only way to see through seemed to be a trio of small slits on each side, but at that point, Lucina was simply overwhelmed by feelings of nostalgia.

A long time passed as she took the mask and stared at the craftsmanship.

When she looked up, there was a hardness in her eyes that hadn't been there before. When she spoke, it was already in a deeper, more commanding tone.

"You are going to help me with my hair."

Gerome nodded a little nervously, wondering if she had already become Marth.

* * *

The small group of warriors was gathered around the altar, and many shifted uneasily. The members of the Council were scattered around the room, and several looked curiously at them, wondering about the delay. Lissa stood quietly at the front of the group, patiently waiting for her niece.

Finally fed up with waiting, Brady strode over to where Cynthia was rubbing down her pegasus with a worn out brush. "Cynthia, are ya sure they said soon? Because I'm pretty sure "soon" passed us by a while back!"

Cynthia blushed slightly, and kept her eyes locked on her pegasus. "Yes, I'm sure!" She stated with vehemence. "A-and if you don't want to get pounded by them, you should stay away!"

Brady rolled his eyes. "Ya always take her side don't you? C'mon, what was happening back there? You can tell us…"

Cynthia had begun to sweat, but was saved by Darren as he came, leading his horse, into the conversation. "Don't you think you should trust our leader a little more? We are going into the past, after all. For such a delicate mission, we should be completely trusting in each other, not quarreling."

"Sometimes it's a good thing to question your superiors!" Brady stuttered. "Ya can't trust the political types, I'm telling ya!"

Cynthia sighed loudly. "Lucina was never a political figure, she led one of the armies. Besides, don't you remember who your mother was?"

"Don't you go and bring Ma inta this!" Brady snapped. "I'm jus' saying that we should watch our backs. Relationships between superior and subordinate don't always end pretty for the rest o' the work force."

Darren removed his spear from his back and twirled it as if it were a willow switch. "If you have any more treasonous words to say about our friend and commander, I suggest you say them before I knock your teeth down your throat!"

Brady just set about laughing, almost falling over as he shook with the convulsive giggles. Darren blinked, confused. He looked in askance to the girl beside him, but she just shrugged and returned to grooming her pegasus. Darren sighed, submitting himself to confusion. "Like father, like son, I suppose." He muttered under his breath.

After Brady finally regained his breath, he directed an incredulous look at the young great knight. "Ya plan is ta knock my teeth down my throat, eh? Wasn't it you who was just talkin' about not 'quarreling'?" The instant he finished this, he descended into fits of laughter once again.

The young man frowned as he considered his contradictory statements, then seemed to move on to deciding whether or not to knock Brady's teeth out anyway.

Cynthia decided to intervene before anyone's dental work was rearranged. "Darren, put your spear away. You might hurt someone." She said without turning from her pegasus.

"Isn't that the point?" Darren grumbled, but he acquiesced anyway.

Just then, Gerome appeared. He snapped his figures to call Minerva to his side. Minerva, of course, was on the other side of the group, but wasted no time in leaping over the entire party to reach him. Landing gently, she stuck her head into his chest, nuzzling him much like a kitten. A massive, black scaled, fire breathing kitten, but a kitten nonetheless. As if to add to the image, Minerva began rumbling contentedly as Gerome ran his hand over the crest on her head.

Before anyone had a chance to ask after Lucina, she emerged from behind the pillar. She stood with an air of calm about her. A regal mask covered most of her face, and her hair was done up in a way that it looked short, but wasn't cut. Falchion rested at her side, and one of her hands rested on Falchion's hilt. She seemed ready to pull it out at any moment, but totally relaxed at the same time. All in all, it seemed to every member of the New Shepherds that a hero of old had just walked into their midst.

Owain, of course, wasted no time in voicing this. "Hail, cousin! How did thou conjure such a heroic aura? For behold, thy determination seeps into me, and sets my heart on a path of vengeance! Even now, my sword hand twitches, longing to begin our journey into the past, longing to –"

Owain's rant was cut off by Severa whacking him upside the head. Turning to protest, he was hit again, this time by a pair of fingerless gloves from the opposite direction, causing even Severa to smile slightly. Turning once more to see who had thrown them, he found it to be Lucina this time.

"Put those on." She commanded with a slight smile, her voice deeper than normal. "And once we're in the past, don't take them off."

Owain was surprised enough to stop his theatrical speech pattern. "Why, Lucina?"

She leveled a look that seemed to ask after his intelligence. "So we don't attract the wrong kind of attention. If people spotted the mark of the Exalt on your hand they might ask questions, and people have an annoying habit of remembering things they shouldn't. So for safety's sake, we will be taking precautions." Lucina had reached the front of the group now, and turned around to face the rest. "That includes all of us. Since we can't allow our names to get to our parents, we shall not speak them within hearing of any the original Shepherds, if we even get within speaking distance of them at all. For this to be in any way effective, we can't use my true name, anywhere. A woman with the same name as the royal princess would stick out. So, you will call me Marth."

Inigo spoke up. "Not many would notice you are a woman now, Lucina. That mask hides those pretty eyes of yours." Half the group rolled their eyes at Inigo, those not busy trying to glare him into silence.

Lucina nodded as if he had made a relevant comment. "Exactly. My eyes are attention gathering as well, so it was imperative that I hide them."

Inigo blinked, set off balance. Normally, Lucina would have snapped at him and possibly drawn Falchion, had he made a comment like that. Brady's eyes widened. "Bloody… are you sure that's Lucina?" He asked no one in particular.

"No." Darren replied, certainty filling his voice. "That's not Lucina. That's Marth."

Before anything else was said, Lissa stepped in. "Are you all ready? We must open the portal soon."

The New Shepherds looked between each other and found only determination. One by one, they nodded, and Lissa looked satisfied.

Without a word, she turned and placed her hands on the altar and closed her eyes. Almost instantly, the sapphire eyes of the statue dragon flashed a bright blue, but it faded as soon as it had come, dimming to a flickering azure.

A long silence ensued, the New Shepherds waiting expectantly, and all the Council members stopping to watch. Lissa stiffened, gripping the altar, but not making any sound.

After an imagined eternity, the dragon's eyes flashed again, and in the large arch behind the Altar, a swirling nimbus of blue energy sprang up, filling the arch. Lissa jerked back and almost fell, but Owain rushed forward to catch her. "Mother? Are you okay?"

Yarne poked his head out from behind Kjelle in shock. "T-that's it? I thought that N-naga was going to speak…"

Lissa finally regained her feet. "She did, but only to me… she does not have much power left, and she said that what she has is unreliable." Turning towards the swirling gateway, she furrowed her brow. "She gave two warnings, the first being that the trip to the past may be bumpy. It's highly doubtful you will all arrive in the same place, much less the same time. You will have to find each other." Lissa trailed off, thinking.

After a few seconds, Laurent prompted her. "And the second warning she spoke of?"

Lissa started before bringing herself back to the present. "She said that the darkness is not far…"

A distant rumbling sound, as if a far off avalanche was taking place, suddenly shook the floor. It was not enough to knock anyone off their feet, but every New Shepherd instinctively took fighting stances. Inigo, Severa, and Owain took a back-to-back formation, while the mounted Shepherds leapt on their mounts. Laurent had a tome out, glancing around warily while Noire drew an arrow and Nah reached for her necklace. Yarne ducked under cover as Kjelle brought her spear seemingly out of thin air. Brady edged behind the others, but even he revealed a chipped looking swordbreaker.

A few seconds of silence reigned. Everyone was on the cusp of moving, tension in them like a coiled spring. Again the silence was broken, but this time with a much greater sound, more like a bolt of lightning had struck directly beside them rather than a distant rockslide. The floor bucked and rolled, throwing everyone to the ground, no matter the strength of their stance. The once it was finished, everyone struggled against some form of dizziness or disorientation, some even nursing bruises where they fell. One of the Council members, still woozy, mumbled "What in the-"

The beautiful stone door to the main hall burst in a cloud of rolling purple smoke, sending pieces flying into the room. The purple smoke - _More like smog,_ Lucina thought - seemed to move with a mind of its own. It coiled around the ruined pieces as if assessing the damage it dealt, before winding like snakes down the grand hall, masked from sight by the rock dust from the explosion. Out of this cloud strode four figures, strong, in light armour and holding massive axes. Crimson light flashed from their eyes a moment before they rushed forward, tearing into the chamber, pouring black miasma from their mouths as they raised an unholy howl from their ruined throats.

Jerald was up in a flash, smashing one of the Risen with his shield, sending it flying into a pillar as he ran another through with his long, straight sword, gleaming a cold silver. Pulling it from the already deteriorating body, he darted to the one he had bashed and stabbed it as it tried to regain its feet. The other two, however, ran straight for the New Shepherds.

Lucina tried to get up, but she had hit her head, and a raging headache prevented her from rising past a kneeling position. Looking at her comrades, she realized they had fared no better. Brady had managed to get hit by one of Noire's arrows, and Gerome was pinned under Minerva, who was blissfully unaware of anything happening around her. The rest were in piles, and only some were trying to get up.

 _I have to do this. Oh, Naga. How did they get in here?_ She thought to herself as she rose painfully to her feet. She was vaguely aware of the rest of the Council fighting back more hoards, but then the two were on her. Her reflexes were still slowed, but she managed to raise Falchion to block a roundhouse axe blow. She turned the blade, but the haft still struck with enough force to throw her off her feet again. She tried to rally, but inwardly knew that she could not recover before the axe cut her life short, to be followed by the rest of the New Shepherds. She opened her eyes to look once more before death, but was shocked by what she saw.

The two Risen had rushed past the remaining Shepherds, ignoring Lucina and were charging for the gate. In a flash, they were consumed by the light, released from the future.

Stunned, Lucina lay there, even as her friends managed to get to their feet. Urgent shouts and war cries reached Lucina, and she turned to see a losing battle.

The Council was fighting in the entrance of the antechamber. In front stood Jerald, striking left and right with both sword and shield. However, his armour was cracked, and his beautiful sword was broken off halfway up. By his side stood the barbarian, cut numerous times already but not slowing, and the noble with the rapier. Matado and Matthew darted between them, striking whenever an opening presented itself. Behind them a few paces stood the mages, desperately launching spells into the oncoming tide. The veiled archer was down, hewn from shoulder to waist, with his shattered bow beside him. The shield bearer was staring disbelievingly at his shield, broken down the middle, with the sword that did it lodged in his gut. He stumbled back from the Risen he was fighting before falling and moving no more. The rest were nowhere to be seen.

A shout from behind her, towards the gate, startled Lucina.

"NO!" Owain was shouting. "I won't leave without Mother! I won't- let me go!" He was being bodily carried between Severa and Inigo, both stone faced gargoyles as they threw him through the gate. As soon as they finished, they turned and walked through themselves. Lissa had been studiously ignoring them, tending to Brady's arrow wound, but Lucina saw the tightness in her face. As she tossed the arrow to the side, others walked through, turning into light as they did. None of them looked happy with doing so, but they went anyway. Minerva just stuck her nose in after her master, and she was consumed by the light and pulled through. Yarne hesitated, so Kjelle smacked him with the butt of her spear, making him yelp in surprise and fall through.

Lissa finished with Brady and sent him off after the others. He stopped only to pick up the old swordbreaker, then followed the rest of the Shepherds through.

Lissa crouched beside Lucina. Lucina tried to ask a question, but Lissa shushed her and lifted her staff to the side of Lucina's head. A soft glow filled her vision, and a few seconds later, Lucina felt she could finally think straight.

Lissa stood up, and Lucina hastened to emulate her. Reaching up, Lissa put her hand on Lucina's shoulder. "Go now. We can not hold for long." Looking back at the entrance, Lucina saw that the noble had fallen, with Matado taking his place, and one of the mages was down with a bloody axe on the stone beside her.

But one thought held Lucina. "Why… why did you send the rest through? We could have held them off, and you would not have to-"

Lissa impatiently cut Lucina off. "Do you not have eyes? They are already here. We are the last. And the Avatar is coming."

 _The… Avatar?!_ Just then, a massive explosion ripped apart the door that the members of the Council held, sending bodies and debris flying across the chamber. The light that had pervaded the space died suddenly, leaving the fires in the rubble the only source of illumination. A sword, with a winged guard, broken and cracked, clattered to a stop by Lucina's feet. Matthew and Matado rose unsteadily from the rubble, but no one else stirred.

A cloaked figure stood in the semi-dark of the entrance to the chamber. The figure held a sword loosely at their side, as if it were unneeded. However, the eyes stood out, glowing an unnatural purple. They pierced the haze and dark like they were paper before a flaming brand. They swept the chamber, noting each remaining enemy before the Avatar began to laugh. Her voice was distorted, a dragon-like undercurrent warping the sound. The laugh itself was mirthless, more like satisfied, a cat that had caught the mice it was chasing for so long.

"Speak of the devil…" Lissa muttered. Turning to her remaining companions, she shouted "Matthew! Matado! Buy us some time!"

The two men nodded, then raised their weapons and charged. Lucina half-drew Falchion, but Lissa grabbed her arm.

"No! You must leave, now!"

"But what about you? You'll die here!" Lucina all but shouted. Looking away, she saw the Avatar holding Matthew by the throat, his wild strikes with his dagger doing nothing but irritate the monster. Matado was trying to help, attacking the Avatar with incredible speed, but each blow was deflected by a seemingly lazy sweep of the sword the Avatar carried.

Turning back, she saw that Lissa had produced an axe, and held it with an easy assurance, calm in her knowledge of how to use it. She spoke softly now, gentle as if calming a child. "Lucina… if you do not change the past, there will be no hope for this future. You must go now." She stepped back and held the axe on her shoulder, assuming a more playful stance. A twinkle, long lost in the wars against the risen, appeared in her eye.

"Besides, I've wanted to take an axe to this jerk for quite a while now." A slightly forced smile spread across her face.

A loud crack echoed from across the chamber. The Avatar dropped Matthew's limp body. Turning, the Avatar released a blast of dark energy, throwing Matado to the wall. He slumped, but did not fall to the ground, a crackling spear of dark lightning holding him in place.

Lissa turned away from Lucina. "Go, Marth."

Marth hesitated for only a moment. Stooping, she picked up the broken sword at her feet and stuffed it into her belt. Then Marth turned and ran. Just before she reached the swirling light, she heard Lissa scream, defiant and loud, as she faced the end of mankind, alone.

* * *

The Path – Marth wasn't sure what else to call it – was strange. There seemed to be no scenery as she flew along, never quite understanding what she saw. However, a stream of blue light appeared, and Marth instinctively followed it.

Marth felt as if she were transformed, or changed in some way. However, the stream was pulling ahead, and she had to flap her wings faster to keep up- _Flap my wings?_

A quick glance over her herself revealed the body of an ethereal butterfly, glowing, with beautiful wings stretching from her back. Realizing she was being left behind, she ignored her own thoughts and confusion, and shot after her guide.

Colour appeared, indistinct blues, reminding her of paint dropped on a canvas. They were everywhere, and she felt as if they were setting some massive stage for her. Suddenly, they pulled away, revealing a tall white castle resting on a hill. Scattered trees dotted the hills around it, and it was encircled by two white walls.

The stream of energy darted around the castle thrice, as if emphasizing its importance, before rejoining Marth and leading her off in another direction.

The hills and castle vanished. Darkness enfolded both guide and follower, but one patch of rapidly fading blue remained. The stream of light spiraled down to it, under it. Marth, unsure of what to do, landed on the edge and looked into its darkening depths.

Suddenly, a booted foot slammed down on the spot where Marth was staring. Taking flight, she suddenly realized she was surrounded by a mass of marching blue-clad spearmen; a seemingly endless host that Marth was sure was not there before.

She darted out of their midst, only to find a dark-looking cavalry unit charging into them. The foremost swung his sword in an underhand swing, glowing a strange purple as it flew into Marth's face.

Her position suddenly changed, going from so near to the ground to high in the air. However, she barely had time to feel relief at not being chopped in half, as an enormous amount of arrows suddenly flew out from the darkness towards her. After dodging through the buzzing hoard, she looked back to see where they had landed. To her dismay, she saw the army of spearmen crumpling under the weight of the deadly projectiles.

But just then, she caught sight of her guide once more. Immediately, she set out after the darting shape in the sea of falling bodies. As she caught up, the dying army turned into burning buildings, disturbingly similar to Ylisstol style architecture.

A dark presence appeared behind them, swiftly separating into a half dozen menacing feelings. Only a quick glance back revealed what they were. Black streams of energy perused them, similar to Marth's guide, but with malice pouring from every action they took.

Marth's guide seemed to be aware of their encroaching presence and twirled and turned, attempting to shake them off. They followed with stunning quickness, completely ignoring Marth as she was left behind in the wake of her guide's evasive maneuvers. But she followed still.

A black cloud formed in their path in an instant, blocking their way. Having no time to turn, Marth's guide flew straight in, joined in short order by the black pursuers.

Marth hesitated outside the cloud, but before a decision could be reached, Grima loomed out of the cloud, terrifying and huge. Marth darted away, but his purple flame caught and destroyed everything around her.

For a moment, oblivion prevailed. Slowly, a room came into focus. A massive, once beautiful room, now shattered, pieces of masonry scattered around the floor, fires from the rubble the only light available. A lone figure ran down the center, masked and armed, towards a door of pure light. As they entered, the light spread to encompass everything Marth could understand.

A few blissful moments were spent in this light, before a man leapt out of it, striking downwards with a heavy longsword. Where he landed, a splash of blue appeared, the paint-on-canvas effect returning. The man was blue-haired, battle-rage evident on his face. Another figure twirled out of the white, clad in blue and wielding the same longsword the other was. They twirled and struck, but not at each other, instead lapsing into a deadly dance, working together to create a whirlwind of swords to attack unseen enemies.

Marth's guide reappeared, flying upward and outdistancing Marth, forcing her to hurry. An enormous crystalline eye came into view, spewing out what looked like limp bodies to fall an unseen height. A figure hung suspended in front of the eye, emitting a strange and ominous purple-red light. The guide swirled around this a few times before rocketing off again.

This time a huge skull appeared, but the colours were skewed, as if showing an image not entirely remembered. On the tip of a horn stood a woman, regal in bearing, but crying. As Marth watched, she dipped her head to let a single tear fall away.

Events began to speed up, almost past Marth's ability to absorb it at all. The tear drop fell, first towards a map of the entire world, then a field of blue paint-splotches. This opened up to a view of a couple on a high balcony, smiling at each other fondly as the woman held a child with stunning blue eyes. A group of warriors leapt to face an uncountable hoard, and another group stood looking off a cliff. A woman, barely an outline of light with a red gem right over her heart, spiraled through the air and fell. A dancer glided across a stage to unheard music, before jumping and being hidden from view.

Finally, a mountain appeared, and on the top stood three figures. They drew weapons and faced a massive shadow, which coalesced into Grima himself, who examined the three figures but a moment, before roaring into the air his challenge, stretching his mighty wings into the sky.

A longsword, which Marth recognized as Falchion filled her vision before sliding away, pointing to a shield. The shield had five places to mount round, fist size objects. Five gemstones spiraled into view, each a different colour. Flashing once, the snapped into the shield's mounts with a deep bass note.

There they remained for a moment. A light flashed from the top most gem, the white one, and then the shield rushed towards her face.

* * *

Air rushed past Marth's face as she rocketed out of the Path, revitalizing her mind. Below her stretched a sea of fire, unbroken for miles. Lissa's scream rang once again in her ears.

 _Damnit! Did I come back just in time to see Aunt Lissa die? Was all that effort worthless?_ Then Marth realized this was not the same place she had left. It was a forest, extending to the horizon. Burning, but it was a forest. _I haven't seen so much as a sapling for year,_ She thought in wonder.

Marth's gaze darted to the ground. Three figures were arrayed around a clearing. One, blond haired and petite, shrunk against a tree, trying to make herself as small as possible as another of the figures stood over her, raising an axe. _The Risen that got through the gate!_

All this passed through her mind as she hung in space just beyond the Path. Now, she found herself falling towards the ground. Grassy, green ground. _Focus!_

She hit the ground and rolled, coming into a run. Just as the Risen brought his axe down on Lissa, Marth darted between them, bringing Falchion around to her shoulder blocking the deadly blade. She almost stumbled at the sudden force, and the Risen pressed down, removing any possibility of moving. Marth stared into the face of her Aunt, stunned and unmoving. _She's not going to help anytime soon._

Looking over her shoulder, she spotted the third figure she had seen earlier. He was a tall, strong looking man, carrying a longsword in one hand and an astonished look on his face. Blue hair covered the top of his head. _Father…_

Snapping out of her amazement, she suddenly discovered irritation. _Why is he just standing there!?_ "HELP?" She shouted, her voice hoarse from the transition from the path.

"Right!" He gave a quick nod and he started running towards them, his sword held horizontally. As it began to glow, he shouted a war cry.

Momentarily distracted by the incoming prince, the monstrous form turned from Marth, a questioning sound forcing its way past the distorted mask of death. Its axe lifted from Marth's blade, and she wasted no time in propelling it further with a sudden push of Falchion. Pivoting swiftly, she brought her sword around to tear through the creature's waist, just as Chrom's sword dealt a brutal strike to its neck.

They both remained poised, listening carefully as three loud thuds sounded; the legs first, followed by the torso, and the head swiftly after.

Marth was quick to sheath her sword and turn away. She was still a little disconnected, trying to ignore the fact that her father, the one she had not seen since she was but a girl, was almost right beside her. Not only that, but the trees, though burning, were the biggest living plants she had seen for years, with only some of the hardiest vegetables growing in the tainted ground. Cabbage was surprisingly vigilant, she found, but there were only so many ways to prepare it. And even that had begun to die off near the end.

"Impressive entrance." Chrom remarked, bringing Marth back to what was happening. His tone bordered on suspicion. "What's your name, sir?"

 _He thinks I'm a man!_ Marth thought as she gave him a sidelong look. _Probably better if it remains that way._

However, Marth was saved from having to answer by the rather noisy entrance of a mounted knight bursting through the trees. The noise was not the knight's fault though; a white haired man in a pale cream shirt and rather baggy pants was trying to hang on to his waist and ride behind him on the horse, and seemed to be failing miserably. His hands continually slipped off the shining armour of the knight, and only because he was exceptional at maintaining his balance did he not fly off the horse as the knight turned to ride to them.

Marth used this distraction to slip into some unburnt bushes nearby. The knight stopped his horse quite suddenly, swinging the back of the horse around as he did, so as to face the siblings. This resulted in the white haired man flying off the horse with an undignified scream.

The knight, having barely noticed, spoke urgently to the nobles. "Milord, milady, are you hurt?"

Lissa, instead of responding, simply shouted "Frederick!" It seemed to be in equal parts relief in his arrival and disgust at the other man's treatment. Chrom took the liberty of answering for the both of them.

"We are fine, Frederick. We were attacked, but a young man helped us. He… where did he go?"

Chrom whirled left and right, searching in vain for Marth. "He's gone!"

Lissa spun around as well, disbelief evident in her face. "What? But he was here just a moment ago!" She began staring intently into the bushes, forcing Marth to freeze in place to avoid detection.

"I think we have bigger problems than a new friend" Frederick began. "There are… things advancing." He indicated the opposite end of the clearing with a sweep of his lance.

Marth almost cursed aloud. In and among the trees staggering shapes wandered, aimlessly and seemingly all with some sort of limp or deformity. But all carried weapons.

Marth took in the whole group with a glance, but after a moment, she realized they were not moving aimlessly after all. There was a definite pattern to their shifting gait, and as she watched, one of the creatures looked directly at them, and then moaned a little louder than normal. A small portion of their number broke away and entered the thicker cover of trees to the left.

When she looked back at the small group, she saw the white haired man had stood up while her attention was away from them. He was intently squinting into the foliage, stepping back in shock or disgust – Marth couldn't tell which from where she was - when one of the Risen stumbled into view. "W-what? Chrom, what are those things?" He cried. "They aren't a normal occurrence in these lands, are they?"

Marth started. She had finally remembered who the white haired man was. _It must be Robin, the tactician of the Shepherds._ Having solved that mystery, Marth crept away, heading to the stand of trees to the left. As she did so, she heard Chrom speak, already calm and commanding.

"No, Robin, those are not ordinary, I can assure you. We have to take care of them before they make it to the Commonlands. What's our plan of attack?"

She heard no more as she went to take care of the now-hidden group. The trees were closer here, and one of the few portions of forest yet unburned. Marth began to move slower to prevent an ambush in the tighter space.

One of the Risen stumbled into view. Marth darted behind a tree, scanning for the Risen surely waiting in ambush. Finding none, she furrowed her brows. Chancing another quick glance, she realized that there were no other Risen in the immediate area. _That I can see anyway… well, the best way to find a trap is to spring it._

The Risen that Marth had seen was lumbering in her direction, oblivious to its fate. Leaping out from behind the tree, Marth brought Falchion in a quick cross slash intended to cut the beast in half. However, she had misjudged the distance between her and her target, resulting in a much smaller wound being torn through the chest and biceps of the Risen.

Marth changed her jump into a dive to escape from the monster that would certainly make chase; wounds like that were no more than scratches to Risen. As soon as she was on her feet again, she set a ready position, prepared for the other Risen that should be coming out of ambush.

A profound silence reigned, interrupted only by the unmistakable sound of the wounded Risen dying, and the faint crackles of the forest fires. Marth held her stance for a few seconds, disbelieving. _It's… it's already dead? That shouldn't be._ Getting up to examine the ground and the area around her, she realized she couldn't deny it. _Maybe… it was because the only ones that I faced were those that were created after Grima's rise? Would that result in a stronger, cleverer Risen?_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of more Risen, these vying for her blood.

She ducked under the first Risen's sword, a wild swing barely able to be considered aimed. With a quick step forward, she cut through the Risen's side and, using the same motion, brought Falchion up to stab the next Risen in the face. She blinked as both dissolved almost instantly, but had to move out of the way of another wild swing, this time from an axe.

Cutting through this one in very much the same way as the first, she ignored the falling corpse to charge at the last two Risen. Ducking their amateurish swings, she bowled them both over, one to either side. She then swept Falchion right and left in an almost arrogant flourishing movement, cutting both of the Risen's necks before sheathing her sword.

Sighing, she nearly turned around to examine the ground where the Risen fell for spare weapons – a habit drilled into her from years of fighting the monsters with little equipment – before she noticed a gleam of metal up the path she was following.

A risen archer, arrow drawn to its ash coloured cheek, stared down the path towards her. A flash of surprise, followed by rueful humor flowed through her. _In the past for less than an hour, and I'm taken out by a half-rate Risen. Not how I planned this._

Before the archer could fire, however, a horse burst out of the trees, slamming into the Risen and throwing its bow and arrow away. The Risen landed on its face, and the horse reared into the air. Marth suddenly noticed the rider on its back. She was a red haired – and armoured –cavalier, with a long lance in her hand and a cavalry sword at her hip. As the horse came downward, she gave a chilling war cry and lashed out with her lance, burying the tip in the Risen's… hindquarters.

Marth almost winced despite herself as the creature let out a wail of agony as it died. The redhead inspected her lance tip, only to find that she had driven it through the Risen into the ground below, and had broken there.

Turning back to the bushes from whence she had come, she shouted "Hey Stahl! Get your ass over here! Bring the recruits too!"

Noticing Marth, she reached around to grasp her sword handle. "So, you one of them too? I can dish out more if you'd like-"

Marth, feeling a little uncomfortable, held her hand up to stay further threats. "You can be sure I am not one of them. However, you will find more of them, and another group of travelers, on the other side of this thicket." She pointed in the direction of Chrom's group.

As the cavalier looked in the direction of Marth's indication, Marth jumped into the bushes to hide herself. The cavalier gave a surprised exclamation when she looked back to find Marth gone. "The bloody hell!?"

Another cavalier rode in, this one in green armour, a pair of men on foot following quickly. One had a bronze pot on his head, and the other held a bow, but both were panting heavily.

"Have you seen any more of those monsters?" The cavalier in green asked.

The red cavalier stared down the path for a few seconds more. With a small jolt, she turned back to the green cavalier. "Yes, and I broke my lance on it." She said irritably. "Also, there are a bunch more over there, so we should get moving."

The archer finally regained his breath, and wasted no time in throwing himself into a speech. "Ah, but my dearest Sully, will you not wait for us this time? Life is fleeting, but love, eternal! Leave us not in your sweet dust once more. Please, would you marr-"

The red cavalier, Sully, cut him off impatiently. "Can it, Ruffles. Stahl, hold out your spear." The archer began to sputter indignantly about how his name was 'Virion' while Stahl - the green armoured calvalier - extended his lance in Sully's direction. Before he could blink, Sully whipped out her hand and snatched the lance from him.

"H-hey! That was my lance!" Stahl stuttered.

"Yup" Sully agreed "And now it's mine. You always said you preferred the sword, didn't you?" Stahl had no response this time, and just sat on his horse, nonplused.

"Thought not. Now let's get moving! Ha!" Spurring her horse, Sully left the group in a flash. Stahl hurriedly groped for the sword at his hip, turning to the two on the ground as he did so.

"Virion, Donnel, stay together! I've got to help Sully!" Finally grasping his sword handle, he pulled the elusive blade from his sheath with more force than strictly necessary. Then, he turned his horse and galloped after Sully.

"What in tarnation are we supposed ta doo now?" The man with the pot, evidently Donnel, asked in a heavy country accent. "We haven't had no training yet!"

Virion took this as an opportunity to brag. "Ah, but do not worry! I am the man who puts 'Arch' in 'Archer'! You will not come to harm if you stand by me!" He said this all while dramatically posing, finding a rock to perch on so he could act as if he were bowing from a stage performance.

"I know, I know." Donnel groaned. "You've been tellin' me this whole time…"

Virion visibly deflated, almost falling over when Donnel started walking towards the battlefield. "W-wait for me!"

Marth sighed with relief, thankful that they had all left. _That could have been awkward to explain. Good thing it's dark right now; I can get away easier._ Briefly considering the two encounters with the Shepherds of the past, Marth almost cracked a smile. _Maybe I should leave that way every time._ She thought. _If anything, just for their facial expressions._

Rising from the foliage, she hurried off into the night.

* * *

Marth found no more Risen in the copse, so she had circled behind the remaining Risen to see how the Shepherds were holding. Finding a small rise, she surveyed the battlefield.

Three knights, Frederick, Sully, and Stahl, were the most noticeable, tearing around the clearing and leaving the Risen rather dazed in their wake. _I can't be sure if that's because of the force of their charge, or the intensity of Sully's mouth._ Marth thought.

Sure enough, the curses had floated out to Marth's range of hearing, and they were enough to make a brigand blush. _I don't remember her being THAT vulgar._ Marth thought uncomfortably as the steady stream of oaths faded into the background.

Virion was standing back a few paces from the main fight, drawing arrows from his hip-mounted quiver three at a time and launching them one after another. This was inevitably followed by a Risen falling over, or at least slowing. Those that weren't were stabbed by Donnel, the pot still resting on his head, but somehow unscathed.

Standing a couple of feet to the side, Lissa held her staff ready to heal any wounds taken. _Well, 'standing' may be giving that a bit too much credit._ In truth, Lissa barely touched the ground at all. She kept bouncing from foot to foot, seemingly in agitation. She swung her staff around too, making Marth thankful no one had gotten too near.

Just ahead of Lissa were Chrom and Robin. Chrom took point, swinging Falchion in great sweeping arcs, while Robin stood back a little, shooting bolts of lightning into the collection of assorted walking corpses in front of them.

Looking over the clearing, Marth felt like they were taking their time. She could tell the plan was thought out; Virion's arrows and Robin's magic attracted the Risen's attention, any who made it close were taken out by Chrom and Donnel, and the mounted Shepherds ensured no large knots of Risen got to the main group at the same time. But somehow, they were not running at their best.

 _They should have taken a group of Risen like this down by now._ Marth thought as she watched Chrom knock an axe-wielding Risen over with a cross slash, leaving it to Robin's magic as he was confronted with another.

 _These are the heroes that I admired from childhood._ She realized. _I'm in the midst of legends. But why are they not what they seemed?_

She took a moment to look back on her memories of earlier in the evening; they may have been slow, but they had the Risen well in hand.

The first Shepherd he had seen was Lissa. She had just seen her on the other side of the Path, fighting to defend the last hope for humanity, willing to die for it. Her face had been lined and worn, with grey hair and somber eyes. When she had entered the past, however, Lissa had been cowering. Hiding from a monster barely worse than those under the beds of children, by comparison. But her face was young and bright, unscarred. If anything, she should be stronger… shouldn't she?

The longer Marth thought on it, the more it refused to be understood. That is, until a single thought jumped her taking her by surprise. _They were not always legends._

Despite the fact that this should have been evident, it had never truly sunk in for Marth. She heard stories of her father's courageous Shepherds since she had been old enough to understand. As far as she had been concerned, they had been born with their chosen weapons in hand, and had begun to fight as soon as they could walk.

Her thoughts were interrupted by shouted commands, frantically raising themselves over the sounds of the forest fires.

Marth looked up, and saw the three mounted Shepherds withdrawing from the battlefield to the main group of Shepherds. There they dismounted and joined the line with Chrom, Robin, and Donnel.

The reason for the panic was at the edge of the clearing. A large group of Risen had gathered around a much taller Risen Chief, about a score in total. They were too numerous for the three Shepherds to plow through without having one or more of them being dragged down.

The Risen began to lumber forward with a loud groan. Arrows and lightning bolts flew into their ranks, but they barely slowed.

 _That still doesn't look like good odds, even with Robin and Virion providing cover fire._ She thought. _Maybe I should show the legends what the next generation can do!_ Marth allowed herself a small girlish smile. _Not that they know that I'm the next generation._

She set off, drawing Falchion as she ran. Only a few moments passed from when she jumped off the small rise to when she encountered the first Risen. Holding her sword horizontally, she didn't even swing, just ran past and let the divine blade tear into the monster.

Swiftly leaving the first behind, she leapt into the group of Risen heading for the Shepherds, and began to dance. Her blade flew around her in smoothly joined arcs, passed from hand to hand without so much as a thought, utilizing the long handle to the best of her ability. Her mind blanked, just moving from form to form without any extra effort. Falchion never stopped moving as she spun through the corpses, literally tearing through them.

The Chieftain rose in front of her, but for some reason, she had gone unnoticed by the beast. Not sparing a moment, her blade twirled from where it had spun in her right hand, passing behind her back to throw herself into a sweeping thrust that tore through the Risen's flank. Using the momentum, she took Falchion in both hands and whirled around, completely bisecting the creature with her second pass.

Rising, she allowed herself to flourish the blade before sheathing it. When she looked up, she was met by a multitude of disbelieving stares from the Shepherds. No Risen remained in the clearing, and the shaking had ceased, but none of them had started to look to their own wounds.

"It's that guy from before…!" Lissa mumbled, shocked.

"Hell!" Sully exclaimed. "He must have taken half of those down himself!"

"…That would fit the tally." Frederick muttered.

As Marth took in the states of the Shepherds, she decided she had been a little too liberal in flaunting her skill. _I must leave. I can't be bogged down in conversation with them._ She turned to leave, but a voice cried out behind her.

"Hey, you! Wait!" A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the owner of the voice to be Chrom. He had moved forward a few steps, but stopped, as if not sure whether to draw Falchion or not.

Marth instinctively stopped, faint memories of when she was young and he was still alive resurfacing. Remembering herself, she only turned halfway, the side with Falchion away from plain view.

"You disappeared earlier before you could give your name." Chrom began, composure regained. "Would you care to tell us what it is?" His tone bordered on suspicion once more, and Marth couldn't blame him. Last time, she had appeared out of nowhere and returned to it before she had answered his question. Still, she hesitated for a second.

"My identity is not important. But you may call me Marth." Chrom started in surprise, as did everyone except Robin, who only frowned in confusion at his companion's reactions. Chrom looked like he was about to ask a question, so Marth decided to speak her piece and leave. _Whatever my piece is… I need to warn them._

"What you saw tonight was but a prelude. The world is teetering on the brink of calamity. You have been warned." She added the last part in an ominous undertone, thanking Naga her voice did not crack and give her away.

Lissa yelped. "What's teetering where now?" She jumped to the side, bumping into Donnel, making his pot fall to the ground with a clang. Every Shepherd's eyes turned to watch. Taking the opportunity, Marth rushed for the forest and ducked behind a tree.

After a brief moment, she heard a cry of disbelief.

"Not much for conversation, is he?" A drawl voice commented. She couldn't identify which of the Shepherds said that.

She let a small grin out, but it faded quickly. She looked up to the sky, but found no more falling figures, no more openings to the Path. She recalled the words of Naga's warning, and sighed. It was too much to hope the others had made it through the same portal.

As she looked into the night sky, a deep melancholy settled in her. Never, for as long as she could remember, was she so isolated. Her friends had always had her back, from playing games in her youth to leading armies against the Risen.

Leaning against the tree with another small sigh, she felt something dig into her back. She reached around and pulled a sword, broken off a short way up the blade, cracked, but still obviously beautiful. The winged cross guard gleamed faintly in the light provided by the dying fires.

Had anyone even been there, they still would not have seen the tears shed behind the mask.

* * *

 **A/N: Whew! That took longer than expected. But, hey! It's lengthy!**

 **First of all, I want to point out the character Matado. If you haven't already guessed, He's a version of Mataras, a character created by Mataras (Joseph Kram). He's awesome, and helped me organize my thoughts when I started this fiasco, so I decided he could cameo. Mataras writes fanfiction too, so go check him out sometime.**

 **Secondly, I want to thank everyone who's PM and reviewed; you guys are epic! Keep coming!**

 **On that topic, one guest reviewer asked who Robin was to marry here. My answer: Ha! Not telling you guys yet! Frankly, I plan to not tell you any shipping pairs until they happen. I might hint. One thing I WILL tell you is that this is NOT RobinXLucina. That is one of my favorite pairings, but it won't happen in this story.**

 **That concludes this author's note. Join us next time when we talk about the newest, not-quite-writen-yet chapter!**

* * *

Kilometers away, the deepest part of the forest rested in silence, untouched by the calamity. In the dark sky, a portal opened, illuminating a small clearing.

Out of it fell a woman, dressed in dark, flowing clothing. Unprepared for the sudden fall, she crashed into the undergrowth without attempting to cushion her landing.

Several long seconds past, in which the woman moved not a muscle. The starry gate closed above her in a silent flash, and slowly, painfully, she sat up, long hair spilling from her hood. She pushed her hood back, exposing delicate features, shadowed though they were. She slowly extended her hands before her, staring at the backs of her hands like they were a puzzle to be solved.

"…Why hasn't he…?" She muttered to herself.

Finally, she took a moment to inspect her surroundings, and almost gaped at the obvious amount of life. Comprehension dawned a moment before happiness obliterated every other emotion on her face.

"I-I can live this time! I can… " The happiness faded as soon as it came. "No. No, I must help."

A large sigh escaped her as she stood. "I wonder where I am…"

Shrugging, she gathered her pure white hair into a loose ponytail, raised the hood of her cloak, choose a direction, and marched off into the night.


	4. Chapter Three: Beginings

Robin, saddle sore and in the process of discovering the negative effects of having only 2 hours of sleep, decided that he did not much like human company. Well, certain human company, at least.

They had stopped for the night as the sun was setting, but it had been more than enough time to set up camp and hunt. Chrom had tied up the horses as Lissa dragged Robin around the bushes to find some firewood. Most of the firewood ended up in Robin's arms at the end, but he could not remember how. By the time they brought it all back, Chrom had emptied the small clearing they had found and unpacked their saddlebags. Frederick did the hunting though, and the skinning, and the roasting. And lighting the fire, for that matter. Robin thought that if left to his own devices, Frederick would have handled everything himself. He seemed to be particularly attached to the siblings, unusually so.

Frederick had looked distinctively uncomfortable at the thought of leaving them alone, but Robin was sure it was more leaving Chrom and Lissa with Robin that worried him rather than simply being out of sight. The threatening look he directed at Robin as he left and the thankful sigh when he came back – dragging a bear one-handed – was enough evidence to support this conclusion in Robin's opinion.

Robin had discovered bear to be the best thing he had ever eaten. Though, considering his companion's reactions, that was probably because he couldn't remember how anything tasted. Lissa's protests and complaints were long and loud, and despite being the one to catch the beast in the first place, Frederick only reluctantly picked at his food. The only other who ate was Chrom, and he did not eat nearly as much as Robin.

Immediately after, Robin fell asleep, his full stomach and drained body only allowing him enough time to retrieve bedroll from his rather empty saddle bags to use as a pillow. He didn't bother to use it for its intended purpose; the night was warm.

He had been out for a full ten minutes when a strangely cold feeling on his neck woke him up. He had brushed his hand to dispel the sensation but soon realized that it was indeed a frog. He had panicked and shouted, jumping and flailing to get the offending amphibian off as soon as possible. This had roused Chrom and Frederick, the former laughing as he calmed Robin down, the latter glaring openly.

Lissa had apparently stayed in her own bedroll ever since Robin had bedded down, and asleep too, according to her own testimony. Robin was sure, however, that he could see her shoulders shaking as she returned to her own bedroll.

His thoughts were whirling though, and he could not return to sleep for almost another hour. At least sixteen tactical plans to get back at the girl were formed before his mind settled. When dreams reclaimed him though, they were not relaxing at all. An unruly nightmare plagued his night, and the only thing that he remembered when he woke was a golden shield, resting against some dark stone altar, black energy being thrown off it in dangerous arcs, obscuring the details.

Waking was another unpleasant memory in itself. A loud rumble had released him from the dreams that had haunted his night, and thankfulness pervaded his mind for but a moment before the ground seemed to drop out from under him. He had landed on his tail bone, leaving a sore spot that was sure to bruise. Vibrations continued to ripple through the ground and he was aware of trees falling in the woods around the campsite.

Once the shaking stopped, Robin stood. He looked over the camp to find that everyone was gone. Panic set in and he briefly considered screaming before Frederick burst out of the foliage on the back of his horse.

Robin had got on behind him, though Frederick made no effort to ensure he remained in the saddle afterwards. A short, bumpy, terrifying ride later – trying to hold on to the man's armour was like trying to grip ice; no traction and colder than a statue – and they found Chrom and Lissa. A rather irritating crash landing and an elusive, unknown, warrior capped this off, and the small hoard of undead did nothing to improve the situation.

Everything past that was blurred together by the heat of battle. He could recall straining his brain to try and keep the enemies at a distance, helped greatly by the timely arrival of a pair of cavaliers, an archer, and a farm boy.

Near the end, he saw that the monsters were gathering at the other side of the clearing, and panic rushed through him as he called back the mounted troops. He had fervently hoped they would listen; they didn't know him at all.

They did come back, and Robin could remember nothing until he saw half the monsters gathered against him fall as a longsword cut a fluid, continuous, arc through their ranks. As they disintegrated, a single warrior stood from the carnage. A short conversation between him and Chrom, and then he vanished into the wind the moment Robin turned away.

Robin had expected to have some time to rest after the fight ended, but Frederick snapped up the bedroll before Robin could get into it, resulting in a new bruise on the back of his head where he hit the ground.

Having no choice but to get on his horse before the others left him, he did so, but rather sullenly. Since he could not hold a grudge for more than a minute, he ended up becoming acquainted with the latecomers.

Both Sully and Stahl knew each other beforehand, and Chrom too. Sully preferred the spear, but Stahl the sword. Sully's continually cursing tongue made Robin want to find some soap, but Stahl was as friendly as could be. They, in and of themselves, were a study in opposites, but it was obvious to even Robin that their friendship had been long, and might even be just a little more than that.

Donnel had an inferiority complex, insisting on referring to everyone as 'milord' or 'milady' or, failing those, 'sir'. He had been a farm boy up until a few days ago, and it showed. He was extremely inexperienced in any kind of fighting, but his irrepressible enthusiasm and willingness to learn overshadowed everything else.

Virion, Robin had become very well acquainted with. He had immediately tried to ride with Sully when it became apparent that they were leaving, but a rather brutal kick had clearly displayed her opinions on that matter. Somehow, Robin, in his haze of exhaustion, had ended up with a boot-imprinted noble sharing the horse.

They had gotten along well at first; Virion had a notion of tactics, which was all Robin really had for interests at this point. What had eventually begun irking Robin were the constant comparisons. Virion seemed to have known another tactician before meeting Robin, and continually referenced their plans. He eventually let slip that it was a 'her' that he was talking about, but when Robin pressed for more information, Virion smoothly changed the topic. Robin still wasn't sure how they had ended up discussing women.

Frederick's glare was almost tangible, despite him riding at the front of the party by Chrom. Sully couldn't complete a sentence without lacing a curse in. Lissa complained of being tired and attempted to convince Frederick to make a stop. Donnel was chattering on about the honor of being in the shepherds, which Robin really didn't understand; what was so great about sheepherders, even if they did carry weapons? Virion couldn't stop talking, and most of it ended up being flowery speeches on the subject of women. No one else was willing to let the flamboyant archer on their horse, either.

Thus, when dawn arrived, Robin could do nothing but glare at its brightness.

They were exiting the forest then, finding the vast expanse of what Chrom had referred to as the Commonland Plains. Robin wondered why, because several hours ago the ground had become very hilly, and he could see no end to that in sight.

The hills were rolling, gentle ones, covered in lush, green grass that glistened in the morning dew. Only a few scattered trees made themselves known, but those that were there happened to be filled with songbirds. Their happy cries created a beautiful symphony that seemed to rise to touch the cloudless sky above before reaching the little band.

The couple large streams that wove through the hills turned golden with the reflected light of the sun, looking as though a mountain's worth of gold had been melted down and sent through troughs of stone.

But, as a matter of principle, Robin felt complied to add some stupid comment.

"Sooooo…" he began, dragging the word out so long he thought it would slog in the grass behind them. Several of his companions turned in their saddles to direct looks of various states of incredulity at him. Except Frederick. He just glared.

"Are we there yet?"

Chrom's eyebrows shot into his hairline a moment before chuckling a bit.

"No, we aren't. But we'll not have too long to wait. With a little speed, we should make it before noon." Frederick nodded agreement.

"That is in keeping with our previous trips. With a little luck by our side, we will reach the city before that storm." He pointed with his lance towards the eastern horizon. Sure enough, the sky wasn't quite as clear as Robin had thought. A towering mass of clouds dominated the east, though still some distance off.

Robin frowned, tuning out Frederick's request to scout head as he concentrated on the clouds. For some reason, those clouds made him uneasy. They felt foreign, in a way, almost as though they were misplaced. Or maybe it was him that was wrong. The sun felt right, but he couldn't be sure about anything else.

Frederick had ridden off, and the little group started moving again, so Robin filed away the nagging feeling for later inquiries. However, his mind refused to stop working, and he soon found himself considering his own behavior.

He had managed to gain a collection of impressions of how others felt about him during the time he had spent riding in the forest. Donnel couldn't stop using honorifics, so maybe he was of royal descent? If he had grown up in a high class environment, that might have an effect on his attitude. Robin dismissed that off hand. Donnel used honorifics with everyone.

Sully had taken to looking at him as if an obstacle. The ratio of swears to common tongue was no different around him as opposed to the others, but they somehow felt… more so. But what could he draw from that?

Stahl was amiable towards him, but he was to everyone. Still, Robin felt like he could trust this man. A simple soldier. He thought he liked those types.

Virion had an air of nobility about him, but he also was knowledgeable in the field of tactics and strategies. By his speech, Robin guessed he read a great deal of poetry. From there, it was a simple assumption that he also had an interest in artistry, but Robin refused to draw anything else from that train of thought. Too many assumptions made for too many casualties. Whatever the case, Robin certainly thought they could be friends.

He suddenly realized that despite other's varied reactions, he too, reacted differently to each individual. Not just in the subtle ways that most people had in meeting others, but deeper, as if he were trying on personalities as he would clothes.

This whole train of thought stopped when Stahl seized his reins and guided Robin's horse back onto the path. Blinking, he realized much had changed while he was tied up in his thoughts. Virion was now trotting up the path, which now happened to be about twenty feet away. Glancing to where he had been heading, he found one of the now-rare stands of trees, and a particularly large tree limb stretching out at about head height.

Returning his gaze to his companions, he found most to be snickering quietly, and few of those attempting to hide it.

Once back on the path, Robin meekly took the reins back from Stahl. Looking up, he asked "So, when was someone going to tell me?"

Lissa pouted. "I still think we should have left you to what was coming." Robin turned to look at Virion.

"You were deep in thought, friend, it would have been wrong to interrupt you."

Sully let out a chuckle. "Would have been quite the wake-up, if you ask me. Once in a life time. We should have left you." Robin's gaze, now close to a glare, turned to Chrom.

Chrom was up front, pretending not to hear anything of the conversation behind him and stoically trying to keep his face straight, though he failed miserably.

Robin sighed heavily is resignation. "Will you at least tell me how long it was?"

"Three hours, and I'm not sure you heard a word spoken the whole time." Stahl said cheerfully.

At Robin's incredulous look, he laughed and pointed to the east. Robin started in his saddle; the clouds he saw earlier were much closer, and the uneasiness he had felt returned, but stronger. A glance towards the sun proved the amount of time that had passed in his self-created mire of thoughts.

Deciding to try and pull the conversation away from his near mishap as soon as possible, Robin asked what their position was.

"Well, we've made good time since the forest" Chrom replied "Ylisstol should only be a couple hours away now, at most."

Lissa's face held an aura of one who knew they had an advantage and was not about to give it up, but she was interrupted by a massive rippling sound. From behind a hill only a few dozen paces off, a constellation of pegasi burst into view. The light flashed off their wings, white, black, and brown alike, as they took to the sky and fled from the small party.

Lissa was completely enthralled by the passage of the magnificent beasts, and Robin sighed in relief. _She is relentless, but easily distracted by animals. Good to know. Wait a sec- how did I know a group of pegasi was called a constellation?_

Shaking his head, he dismissed the thought, not willing to fall into considering his past again.

The rest of the morning passed much the same as it had before, excepting the fact that Robin was aware and contributing to the various conversations. The land leveled somewhat, but remain hilly, and the few trees grew even more scarce. Twice more they scared up constellations of pegasi, and four times found small herds of wild horses running across their path.

Robin began to forge connections with the others as the day went on, excluding Frederick of course. He was almost always scouting, only coming back to report and glare at Robin, and to a lesser degree, Virion and Donnel.

But despite the comradery that had begun to spring up between him and the rest of the group, the uneasiness never left. It simply grew and morphed, beginning to feel like he had swallowed some monster. He began to wonder if it was only the clouds that were giving this feeling.

But it all washed away when Ylisstol came into view.

Located in a wide valley, the city was built primarily on a hill in the middle, a large castle on the pinnacle, gleaming almost white in the sunlight. Two sets of similarly glowing walls were set into the hillside, one at the end of the flattened portion on top, signaling the edge of the castle grounds, and the other around the rest of the city. Most of the buildings Robin could see were high and powerful, almost as tall as the walls themselves. It was quite the sprawl, and it projected invincibility and grace.

They stopped to marvel at it for a moment before going in. Robin shook himself out of his daze and narrowed his eyes, calculating. The feeling he was getting was certainly the creator's goal; if no one believes they can take a fortress, more likely than not, they won't try. But there were several things to take into consideration.

 _First,_ thought Robin, _the white. As far as I know, the only way to turn suitable castle stone white is to use some sort of plaster, but that kind of thing has to be put on every year. To put that on all of those walls AND the castle itself must be a nightmare for the workers._

 _Second, there can NOT be enough manors to provide that many tall buildings. Another show of force, or perhaps economy._

 _Third, why in the world are there no military posts? I don't see an army camp anywhere, and they can't just house them in the city proper! It's simply inefficient. The only other option that I see is to not have an army in the first place, but that… no, that can't be it. They would be overrun by brigands and the like before the year was up._

A shout startled him out of his thoughts. The rest of the group had already begun their descent, and Chrom was waving at him, trying to get his attention. The rest, of course, were laughing at him.

He felt his face flush as he rode down to join them. _Really should have held off on those comments this morning._

The ride was, for the most part, made in peaceful silence. Robin refrained from voicing his opinions in case the others were offended, but he felt whoever ruled Ylisse must be rather full of themselves. Chrom never had touched on the subject of the current ruler in their discussions the day before.

As they got closer, he became rather impressed: the city was much larger than he had originally thought. The valley was almost a plain in itself with its size, and Ylisstol, sitting on its raised position in the middle, was indeed dominating.

It took nearly half an hour to reach the city gates, and when they did, Robin had quite a shock.

"It- it's white!" He almost shouted. He was carefully examining the walls beside the gate, and he had found that there was no plaster. The whole wall was made from a white stone. Robin could only assume the rest was the same. The others gave him looks of exasperation; most assuming he hadn't paid any attention and that he was stating the obvious. Chrom caught his real meaning though.

"Yes, it's white. Ylisse has access to several large stone quarries, most of which contain a white stone. It's relatively strong, yet still soft enough to make sculptures with. Though most say Ylissian sculptors are harder that the stone they work with, so that maybe how they can use wall stone for their work."

Robin turned from the wall, already revaluating his previous conclusions. The group passed through the massive gatehouse, Robin barely noting that the guards nodded respectfully to Chrom as he passed. He was too engrossed in the design of the bastion to register that.

He got another surprise as the left the gatehouse: the wall of noise from a populace at work. The streets were bustling with a variety of people going about their business. Women weaving their way through with trays of bread fresh from the ovens, destined for cafes and inns. Hawkers cried out their wears from the road side, hoping to get the customers before they abandoned them for the market and the well-stocked merchants. Farmers bringing their produce pass craftsmen working in their shops, creating a wide variety of products, from functional to frivolous, with wood, stone and metal.

All this blended together in a cacophony that washed its merry way over Robin, leaving him completely shell-shocked.

Chrom rode up beside Robin, grinning. "You okay?" he asked.

Robin blinked a couple of times as Chrom dismounted before following his lead. "I've never seen so many people in my life… and it's all so loud!"

Frederick walked up beside them both. He seemed to be relaxed for the first time Robin had seen him. That is, if a stone could be said to relax.

"Thank the gods, the city is unharmed. It seems our rush for the capitol was unnecessary."

"No," Chrom admonished, "If we hadn't kept that pace, we would have been delayed by the storm and not reached Ylisstol until tomorrow at least. You did well."

A sudden tap on his shoulder surprised Robin. He turned and found Stahl waiting for his horse's reins. Behind him, a couple more horses waited patiently, the reins of those in his opposing hand.

"I'm taking the horses to the barracks with Sully. You coming with us, or are you going with Chrom?"

Robin blinked as he remembered the rest of the party. Looking past Stahl, he saw Sully with most of the other horses, trying to stop Virion from taking the reins himself. He was spouting something about how the 'lady' shouldn't be forced to do such menial work, while she simply held him at arm's length and cursed to make a sailor blush. Robin tuned them out for the moment.

After a second's hesitation, he let Stahl take his horse. "I think I'd like to see some more of the city. And maybe find a new cloak."

Stahl nodded and grinned. "Have a good time then. I'd join you, but I'm starving." Stahl's free hand drifted towards his stomach, but he dropped it and called over his shoulder. "Sully, you ready?"

Virion had finally gained control of two horses, and seemed satisfied for the time being, though he continued to compliment Sully shamelessly. For her part she was continuing to swear profusely, but she nodded in Stahl's direction, and the three of them started off down one of the streets.

As the trio faded into the crowd, Robin returned to Chrom's side. "What's the plan?" He asked.

Chrom directed a grave look at him. "We're going straight to the palace. We need to speak with the Exalt. Afterwards, I think we can go to the market to get you a coat, if it isn't raining by that time." He indicated the fortress of clouds climbing high above them now, threatening the noonday sun. A faint rumble could be heard from it over the crowds.

Robin nodded sagely. "Yup. Good idea to avoid storms." He hoped his unease was concealed properly.

Chrom nodded, then seemingly picked a street at random and began walking down it. Robin couldn't make heads nor tails of the direction chosen, but he followed obediently, studying the architecture.

His previous assumption about the buildings was also incorrect. Most of the buildings were made of the same white stone as the walls, and the whole town seemed quite wealthy.

But he was getting used to the mass of noise and motion, and he picked up on other details as well. In the alleys there were scraps of uncleaned garbage and the occasional beggar. Another small building, almost hidden by its neighbors, had boarded up windows and a look of abandonment. Ylisstol wasn't quite as grand as the first impression led Robin to believe, but he could tell it was still quite well off. _As compared to what?_ He wondered.

Shaking those thoughts away, he stopped admiring his surroundings and tried to read them. He felt as though he was missing something, but he couldn't grasp what. Lissa was prancing alongside Frederick, peppering him with chatter. Frederick in turn was responding civilly, if not without some amount of sarcasm. Chrom walked just ahead of them, a stern face that didn't seem to register much beyond the path they were following.

Something about the interactions he had seen that day seemed off to Robin, but he could grasp what it was. _I must still be muddled,_ He decided.

After a few more paces down the crowded street, and Robin decided to start up some conversation to try and clear his mind. Quickening his stride for a moment, he drew level with Chrom and cleared his throat to gain attention.

"So, Chrom, tell me about the ruling Exalt."

Chrom blinked, startled. "Oh course. What do you want to know?"

Robin shrugged dismissively. "How do the commoners see her? You said she encourages peace and handles most political problems or traps with her morning breakfast, but is he well received?"

Chrom chuckled a little before responding. "I don't remember saying it quite like that. But to answer your question, she is extremely well received. Emmeryn is a symbol of peace, and one of Ylisse's most prized. The commonfolk adore her, and the nobles can't find a fault. Everyone loves her."

Robin nodded, considering. He felt the pieces moving in his head; something was coming into focus, but what?

Lissa trotted up beside them. "She's also the best big sister ever!" She giggled.

 _There we are…_

Robin blinked rapidly, and almost tripped before catching himself. The pieces settled so quickly he could have sworn he heard an audible click.

"Your sister…? Then you are the Prince and Princess of the…Ah. I see." Frederick looked at him incredulously.

"You only just discovered the fact? You are an intelligent man, and you even claimed to remember milord's name when nothing else came to you."

Robin decided to ignore the subtle barb in the man's words and nodded. "I am not sure I'm doing so well today. There's too much to take in to make that kind of connection offhand." Then, Robin blinked again, realizing he had been spending the last couple of days joking and acting like a fool in front of the highest man in the country. He straightened immediately.

"Milord! I apologize for my uncouth behavior, pray forgi-"

"Please stop!" Chrom cut in, holding hands over ears. A grin appeared on his face to indicate he was joking, and he continued. "I've never been much for formalities. I hate them, really. I can never make a proper friend when they insist on sticking to formalities."

He said this casually, as if he were just joking with an old friend. Robin realized then that Chrom was truly serious, and a flash of sympathy flew through him. It would be incredibly hard to make any true friends if they insisted on his royal title.

"If you insist… Chrom," he said cautiously. Chrom flashed a grateful smile over his shoulder. Feeling the need to lighten the atmosphere a moment, Robin added "I suppose this explains why Frederick tolerates Lissa all the time, eh?"

Chrom threw his head back in a hearty laugh, and Frederick snorted. Lissa's indignant "Hey!" only made Chrom laugh harder, causing her to pout and stalk a few steps ahead of them, chin raised high.

Just as Chrom was containing himself, Frederick spoke. "Indeed." He said, sarcasm only just detectable under sorrow, "Oh, but the sacrifices I make for the sake of the realm…"

Chrom's laughter did not halt for quite a while.

* * *

Entering the inner gate, Robin found that all of the assumptions he had made had been positively wrong.

The castle grounds were expansive, yes, but excepting the castle in the center of the space enclosed by the inner wall, it was mainly military services that dominated the grounds. The space in front of the castle was a vast paved courtyard. A path was dictated by twin lines of stone pillars leading to the entrance, but all around them were soldiers drilling and marching formations. Further into the distance, row upon row of barracks were situated, flagpoles bearing wildly flapping blue standards before each one. Behind those rose a pair of gargantuan towers that seemed to serve as eyries for the pegusi. Behind the castle was a small rise that seemed to be covered in woods.

The castle was beautiful; soaring turrets and graceful curves made to look more like a sculpture than something to actually live in. But under all the beauty, Robin could see that it would be an extremely hard fortress to take.

He marveled at it the whole way in, but once he reached the gates, he realized that he should have gone with Stahl and Sully; no sane guard would let him in!

Chrom gave a nod and a smile to pair of spearmen in front of the doors and he and his whole group just walked through.

Robin looked over his shoulder and checked around him to make sure no soldiers were charging at him, but few in the area seemed to pay attention to him. Most of the people there just smiled and greeted Chrom in passing.

The hallways were massive, but they provided a comforting presence somehow. Occasionally patrols of Pegasus Knights would pass through the corridors, but none stopped them. Minor nobles bustled around, and servants dusted the wall hangings and vases in the niches in the walls.

It all seemed to be friendly and familiar, but nothing was out of the ordinary. Nothing seemed overly…unique. Then, they arrived in the Grand Hall.

The doors weren't overly different from any of the other ones in the palace, being made of the same wood and worked with a wonderful pattern, but a pair of Pegasus Knights were stationed outside. Chrom smiled to the both of them, to which he received friendy nods. Neither Knight said anything as they pulled the doors outward to let the little party in.

As they walked through the door, Robin thought he heard a faint sigh from a knight with striking red hair. Looking back, though, he didn't see any indication that she had so much as flickered an eyelid.

The Grand Hall was like nothing anything Robin had seen before. A long, wide space stretched before him, almost a courtyard in size. It was enclosed, of course, with a trio of floors that looked out over the main space. Scattered groups of nobles stood talking in small meetings or walking around the space, completely at ease. The roof was glass, providing a clear view of the sky above and the storm brewing therein. At the far end of the hall sat a throne on a small dais.

The throne was simple, high-backed and strong. On the throne sat a woman, clad in beautiful green and white robes, with a crown that took more presence in a halo-like arc behind her head than on it. A regal bearing emanated from her even across the room. She was speaking with someone who looked like an advisor, but the moment the doors shut behind them, she turned their way and her serene face was overtaken with joy. A jolt seemed to go through Robin.

As they came closer, she dismissed the advisor and came to greet them. Robin was having trouble for some reason he couldn't identify, so he hung behind his new friends. The shock had left him, but a queasy feeling had replaced it, and he felt a little lightheaded. _Must be my long day,_ he thought to himself. He tried to focus on the woman – which he presumed to be the Exalt – coming closer, but that only made it worse.

"Chrom, it's so good to see you! How was the recruiting trip?"

At the sound of her voice, he almost fainted. _I must be coming down with something…maybe that bear meat had something to do with it? Well, I can't go fainting in front of the Exalt…gods, that would be embarrassing. I guess I'll have to tough it out._ He bit the inside of his cheek, and that seemed to focus him. A little.

"Well, there will be little troubles with bandits near Southtown for a while," The prince replied. "A large group attacked town, but we managed to save most of the residents."

"Forgive me, milord," a woman, wearing golden Pegasus Knight armour, said as she joined the group, "my Knights should have taken care of it."

Chrom shook his head vigorously. "No, it was your duty to remain here. This is the reason why we're establishing the Shepherds, to provide a militia unit for internal affairs that don't need the attention that a patrol of Pegasus Knights or Paladins would attract. Besides, we were not short-handed."

Emmeryn looked directly at Robin, and the feeling swept over him again. It was all he could do to prevent himself from falling over. "You speak of your new companion?"

Chrom nodded, smiling as he pulled Robin forward a little. "Yes. This is Robin. He fought alongside us in Southtown against the brigands and displayed great prowess, both physical and tactical. I've decided to make him one of the Shepherds, the Tactician, in fact."

Emmeryn turned to Robin. "It seems Ylisse owes you a debt, Robin."

Robin blinked, taken off guard. "N-not at all, milady." He managed to stutter out. Then Frederick stepped on his day.

"Forgive me, your Grace, but I must speak out. We found Robin in a field, unconscious, while we were investigating some suspicious rumors. He claims to have lost his memory, and when we returned to the town, it was under attack. I do not believe in coincidences, milady, and this far too much to ignore. I would not rule out the possibility that he could be a Plegian spy."

Chrom started, then turned to berate the knight, but the Exalt broke in.

"But you have allowed him into the castle. He has earned your faith, hasn't he, Chrom?"

"Yes. While fighting, he took a blow meant for me, and would have died if Lissa hadn't been there. He has risked his life for both me, and our people. If that's not good enough, I don't know what is."

Emmeryn smiled again. "Well then, it seems that you have not only Ylisse in your debt, but I." Robin's face became the picture of surprised confusion, but before he could say anything, the Exalt continued. "A tactician, you say? I will have to see you in action sometime, Robin."

Robin's heart felt like it was going into cardiac arrest, but he managed to stutter out a beleaguered "M-milady."

"Now then," she said as she turned away, "I'm about to hold court. If you would remain here, Frederick, Chrom, so you can give a report?"

Lissa rolled her eyes and grabbed Robin's arm. "That's our cue, Robin. C'mon, I want to show you something!"

Before Robin could ask if he could sit down for a minute, Lissa was dragging him towards the door by his arm. He stumbled, almost regained his balance, then nearly fell again. As they passed through the doors, he reached out an arm in a silent plea for mercy, but all he got was a laugh from Chrom, and a small, amused, smile from the Exalt.

* * *

Emmeryn sighed a little when the doors closed. Lissa had been as lively as ever for her adventure, though that was to be expected. Little ever shook her. But the man they had brought along, he was a conundrum. He had stayed to the back, but his eyes were plain and open, something she never saw when dealing with people in court. Well, unless they were Chrom, but he didn't count.

She had said more than she had intended to. Normally she wasn't so forward, but he seemed…steady. Like a pillar, like he had never needed a support in his life, like he was made to support others. Of course, his expressions as Lissa pulled him away were comical as well.

 _I like the man._ She decided. _If he becomes Chrom's right-hand, I will have no problem with that. Maybe I'll help him along._

"Emm? You okay?"

Emmeryn shook herself and turned back to her brother with a smile on her face. "Yes, Chrom. I'm fine, thank you. I just became lost in thought."

"Of course. Now, the court?"

Emmeryn smiled and nodded. As she did so, the ground was covered in shadow. Looking up, she saw the clouds that had been threatening all morning had snuffed the noonday sun. A roll of thunder passed through them, majestic in its primal power.

 _I've never really liked thunderstorms,_ she thought to herself. _But for some reason, this feels different._

A blast of thunder ripped through the clouds once more.

* * *

 **A/N: Hello all!**

 **I think I'll start of with a bit of a thank you to my Consulting Novelist, Mataras. He's a great writer, and I'm still relying on his help. Thank you.**

 **To all those who review and PM: THANK YOU! I truly appreciate it, especially if it's criticism. So keep it up!**

 **In other news, I've realized that I'm still in need of another OC or two. Instead of just making a couple more, I decided to ask if any of you guys want in. They'll be minor parts, quite possibly ending in death, but you can PM me if you want more info or to submit a character. If no one shows up, I'll be fine, but I wanted to let you guys in on this if you wanted.**

 **May the winds always fill your wings, and may your talons ever be sharp. Fair flying, my friends.**

* * *

The collection of nobles in front of Gangrel were babbling again. He hated it when the babbled, but the last time he had stopped one, the man had nursed a grudge and ended up trying to have him killed. It had been so much work to plan the counter-assassination. _And that was, what? Last week?_ Gangrel mused to himself, frowning slightly. _Yes, definitely too soon to need another._

This time they were complaining about taxes. They wouldn't be able to maintain their lifestyles at this rate, and heaven forbid they need to sell one of their summer estates! No mention of the peasants they were crushing under their feet for the privilege in the first place, of course.

Gangrel was about to begin placating them when the door at the end of his hall opened and Validar stepped through. A moment behind him was a young man, bent with exhaustion, and covered by a cloak with the Grimleal markings of a hierophant.

Standing, the Mad King called. "Bring him in, Validar, bring him! Now, the rest of you, shoo! The adults need to talk!"

The noble who was speaking stood there for a second with his mouth hanging open before closing it with a snap. Turning on his heel, he marched out of the room, radiating outrage from his stiffened back. The rest followed, though less offended and more curious about the newcomer. _I guess I'll be plotting that assassination soon anyway..._

The hierophant bowed briefly as he reached the throne, then began speaking before Gangrel could say anything.

"I tried to bond him, but it was a hard chase, and I miscalculated. He nearly dispersed me with his anima magic, and I was forced to retreat."

Gangrel rolled his eyes. "Really, you're supposed to wait until I ASK for the report. No respect these days..."

"Gangrel!" Validar exclaimed. "You know who he is! He deserves respect more than you or I, and the tidings he brings are dire!"

Gangrel waved a hand airily, leaning back on the throne. "Just find him and try again. Shouldn't be that hard."

The hierophant shook his head. "No, he's found refuge among the Ylissians, with Prince Chrom. I can not approach them as I am. He's lost his memory, so he won't give away our plans, but we can't reach him right now."

Validar began stroking his goatee. "I think we'll have to leave him that way for a while. It would be complicated if he suddenly disappeared now."

"Then what is your plan, old friend?" Gangrel asked, suddenly quieter. They had been working together for years, since childhood really.

"I guess we'll have to start grooming Alyss to take his place." Validar said, nodding. " It would still be preferable to have him back, but she is almost as good as him."

Gangrel blinked. "Wait...you're going to take Alyss...? But she's my fiancee. It's just impolite-"

"Yes, that will do," the hierophant interrupted. "Gangrel hasn't announced his engagement yet, has he?"

Gangrel frowned. "No, I was going to do that tomor-"

"Wonderful. Then it's settled."

Gangrel leaned into the throne. This meeting was going very badly. Maybe what he needed was a good assassination to cheer himself up.


	5. Chapter Four: Enter the Shepherds

Walter's first official day in the Shepherds wasn't particularly auspicious yet. Then again, he had been recruited by a shirtless man who referred to himself in the third-person. Maybe it was too much to expect to get any leeway after that. At least he finally had a steady job.

Walter had first tried his luck in Valm, in particular, his homeland Prydain, as a bard, but it hadn't been his intention to simply tell the stories; he wanted to be IN the stories. So, he attempted a life as a mercenary.

Unfortunately, work was scarce for mercenaries in Valm. The only war going on was a squabble between the tiny country of Valm and the nation of Alba. This would be all well and good, except for a couple of facts. Alba didn't hire mercenaries, and no one wanted to be on the bad side of an Albian. Not only did they carry huge longswords the liked to call claymores, but they played bagpipes, and the chieftains had a habit of lighting their chest hair on fire when they grew angry. Or so Walter had been told.

He had drifted through Valm, eventually arriving in the port city of Chron'sin and getting passage to Regna Ferox. That turned out to be too cold for him, so he left and ended up in Ylisse. A nice, peaceful country, with absolutely no work.

He had been spending an evening in a bar trying to drink without losing the rest of his precious coin, when he was approached by a shirtless, extremely strong-looking man who introduced himself as 'The Vaike". The man drank a few rounds with Walter, then offered him a job out of thin air.

He accepted, then spent the next few days in Ylisstol as he was introduced to the Shepherds who were in house – the rest were on a recruiting mission - getting tested and approved by a couple of stuffy officials, and then moving to the barracks, for what he hoped to be his permanent home. Until he had money again.

Disappointingly, his new home had a wakeup call.

"UP AND AT 'EM!" Vaike shouted, banging his axe against a frying pan, making Walter jerk awake, only to fall out of his bunk. He opened one eye and treated Vaike to sleepy glare from his position on the floor.

"I'm going to make you pay for that, Vaike." He growled, but the bare-chested man laughed as he left the room.

"Guess you'll need to wait for that schoolin'. I'm working with Peter this time!"

Growling to himself, Walter pulled himself from the floor to get dressed. The whole complex the Shepherds had was rather impressive for a militia, but considering the Prince led it personally, it couldn't lack funding. But for all the space in the building, only a few beds were filled. The other two occupants were already tying the laces of their boots, and one paused to grin at Walter.

"Don't worry, I'll give him a run for his ego this morning." The man said.

"Thanks, Peter. I appreciate it."

The other man looked up with a near identical grin to the first. "Don't think it's a favour he's doing; Peter and I give him a hard time at every opportunity." Peter turned and punched the other man in the shoulder, which was returned with prejudice.

Walter sighed as he finished getting dressed and threw on his boots, ignoring the escalating scuffle behind him. As he walked out, he called over his shoulder. "Jesse, Peter, can you at least try not to break anything of mine?"

The other man, Jesse, gave an overly exaggerated innocent look as he held a thrashing Peter in a head lock. "Break anything? Us? How could you imply such a thing?"

Peter growled from his hunched position. "I'll break your face once I'm out of this head lock, you prancing pansy, now let me go so you can take what's coming to ya!"

"Go boil your bottom, you flabbergasted ferret! You'll not get out till-"

Walter sighed again as he shut the door behind him. The two he had left in the room were brothers, and they certainly acted like it. Walter hadn't yet seen both of them in the same space without an argument breaking out, usually resulting in a scuffle. Strangely enough, they were from the Army Core, and a couple of the best too.

The Shepherds consisted mostly of soldiers that the different portions of the Ylissian Military deemed they could spare. They didn't skimp though; Peter and Jesse would have been Sergeants by now if not for their constant bickering. The Pegasus Knights had sent one of their best flyers, a woman named Sumia, though she wasn't the best on the ground: she could hardly walk without tripping sometimes. A mage from the Ylissean Ministry of Magic named Miriel also lived in the barracks, but she seemed preoccupied in studying and rarely joined anything the others took part in. Except breakfast, on occasion, so she barely counted. Stahl and Sully, a pair of cavaliers, were the contribution of the Paladins, and again, a couple of the best out of training. They had been called the Bear and Panther, a honourary reference to some legend Walter had long forgotten. He hadn't seen either of them, though, so he would make his own judgement later.

Vaike was a vassal of the Royal family, and so he was there almost by default, but he was good. One of those away, Frederick the wary, had tales told of him that made him seem like a monster, but Walter thought that no one could meet those kind of tales. Exaggerated tales, he was sure. There was another vassal, a man named Kellam, but Walter hadn't seen him since he was introduced. The last member, beyond the Prince and his kid sister, was a noble named Maribelle. She was generally aloof from the others, but Walter didn't mind too much. She was a daughter of the royal family in Themis, one of the city-states allied to Ylisse, and he didn't like people in the first place, not to mention nobility. _And now I'm in the service of one. Just great._

While he was thinking, he was walking down the long hallway of the nigh-empty men's wing to the staircase leading to the mess hall. A few windows looked over the training area out front, green grass beaten down and black dirt stomped flat by the previous occupants of the building. By this time, Walter had arrived at the mess, and his thoughts were interrupted by a small explosion from the prep area. Miriel stumbled out, holding a platter of perfectly prepared eggs and sausage. Her face, however, was covered in soot, excepting her eyes, which were shielded by her glasses. Looking over the rims, she tottered to the buffet table and set down her burden before returning to the kitchen, muttering under her breath. It sounded like she was saying something about grease and flammability.

Walter stood stock still for a few seconds, blinking in confusion. Before he could comment, however, Vaike rushed by him, going for the plates. After a moment, Walter followed him.

The barracks were curiously quiet. Vaike already had a sausage in his mouth as he loaded up the plate, Miriel had left the room, and no one else was there yet. Walter calmly loaded his plate and sat beside Vaike at the long table.

"So…" Walter started, running a hand through his hair. Vaike looked up from his plate, making a questioning sound through his full mouth.

"Is that," Walter continued "I don't know, normal?" Vaike swallowed before speaking.

"Yeah, Miriel is always doing some experiment or another, even when she's on mess duty. I don't know where she found that much soot, though. She sounded like she wanted to use a spell. I think." Vaike furrowed his brow. "I never know what she's saying."

Walter sighed as Vaike returned to his breakfast. He was about to comment on the sudden appearance of another plate on the table when a woman came in the mess wearing a full set of Pegasus Knight armour. He only had enough time to recognize her as Sumia before she tripped over seemingly nothing and landed directly on her face.

Quick as a blink, she was back on her feet, blushing as she brushed herself off.

"You okay?" Walter asked, causing Sumia to jump a little.

"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about me." She said as she grabbed her dish. Vaike looked up from his now empty plate.

"Don't bother asking her. She's always falling head over heels. Especially when Chrom is around." Vaike wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at the last statement, making Sumia blush more and protest as she sat down at the other side of the table.

"What? No, no, you have it all wrong!"

"Oh, then what's with your obsession with our resident Prince?"

"It's not that! He's-"

"He's what, hmmm?"

"He's our Captain, that's all!"

Walter tuned the pair of them out as he began to eat his breakfast. Sumia's blushing and vehement denials of feelings for the Prince were only encouraging Vaike, who was sitting back and laughing at her reddened face.

Walter truly didn't quite know how to react to his new friends. Social interaction had never been his forte, part of why he wasn't a bard anymore, but these people had a very different upbringing. They definitely didn't seem like soldiers, that was certain.

Walter was just finishing his breakfast, still trying to tune out the conversation beside him, when a loud crash sounded from the stairs. Looking over, he saw Jesse lying at the bottom, nursing a growing knot on his head as Peter came walking down, crowing his victory.

Shaking his head, Walter resigned himself to not knowing, at least not for a while. Sometimes, it was just too much to try and understand.

* * *

"VAIKE'S COMIN' AT YA- OOF!"

Vaike tumbled into the dirt as his laughing opponent danced away, twirling his practice spear.

"Come on, Vaike! That can't be your best!" Peter taunted as he stepped into his ready position. Vaike growled wordlessly as he leapt at the soldier, bringing his wooden axe around in wild swing. Peter ducked under the blow, slamming the butt end of his spear into Vaike's midsection, which sent the man flipping over Peter's shoulder to land in the dirt behind him. Peter pranced off, chuckling and taunting.

Nearby, Jesse was walking Sumia through the finer points of a specific thrust, and how to counter it if it were used against her. Once satisfied, he stepped back and got into ready position. Sumia took the moment to check the surrounding hills for a moment, before ending up disoriented on the ground.

Walter sighed. The morning's training had been going like this for almost half an hour now. Peter and Jesse mopping the training ground with their opponents, while Sumia gave credit to Vaike's theory, and Vaike himself spent his time throwing himself angrily at his opponent, not yet realizing the result was always the same.

Adjusting the wide brimmed hat on his head, Walter looked around the training yard. Everyone, even Maribelle, were in their standard combat clothes, and he was no exception. Plain grey clothes under a light silver breastplate, tall boots, and a pair of solid metal gauntlets and greaves to protect against any missed blocks. A standard sword belt completed the outfit, though his normal rapier rested by the side of the yard. In his hand he twirled a light practice sword.

And he was waiting. His practice partner hadn't shown up yet.

Giving another cursory glance around the yard, he began pacing a bit. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of Kellam since meeting him, but he didn't seem like one to run off. He obviously did something to keep up his strength, and you could be killed for desertion if you missed too many days. He had to be around somewhere. Walter was getting tired of receiving puzzled glares from Maribelle

"Any day now, Kellam, we could start…" He muttered under his breath.

Suddenly something shifted in his peripheral vision. He turned to see what it was, but a wooden lance smashed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Looking up into the sky, he blinked a few times, the pure blue expanse interrupted only by the blinding halo of the sun. Then, it shimmered. There _was_ something there. Narrowing his eyes, he concentrated, and the shimmer solidified, revealing a tall man, covered in brightly polished armour, looking down at Walter with concern.

Walter groaned, covering his face with a hand. "Hello Kellam. How long have you been there?"

The other man blinked. "I've been here since breakfast. I was waiting for you to say you were ready. Are you okay?" he extended his hand to help the fallen swordsman up.

Walter took it, groaning again. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just didn't see you there."

"Don't worry about it," the man said, grinning sheepishly, "People forget me all the time. You want to start for real now?"

"Sure, but don't be sad when I beat you. I can see you now, after all." _I'm not letting you out of my sight from now on._

Kellam grinned. "I'll try not to. Ready?"

Walter nodded as he settled himself into a fighting stance. Neither man shifted from his place for a second. Then, Kellam made his move.

The spear thrust forward, going for Walter's midsection again. He darted to the side, but just when he was going to stab in retaliation, Kellam turned the stab into an encompassing swipe, forcing Walter to dive under the wooden shaft. He came up again, throwing himself at Kellam's other side, only to have his practice blade meet the wide shield carried by the other man. Growling, he darted around, trying to get at Kellam's back, but the knight anticipated the move once more. He spun the opposite direction, the spear butt catching Walter once more in the stomach, sending him to the ground.

Vaike began laughing raucously, but was mercifully stopped by Peter taking his feet out from under him once more.

Maribelle called to Vaike as Walter was pulled to his feet once more. "Maybe if you spent as much time training as laughing at other's mistakes, Vaike, you might not be so soundly beaten."

Vaike growled as he shot up from the ground. "Maybe you should try fightin' missie, rather than staring at us all day! You might find it harder than it looks!"

"Is that a challenge?" Maribelle asked icily, rising from her seat and taking her parasol in hand. "If so, I accept."

"You're gonna get more than you asked for, missie!" Vaike shouted as he twirled his axe, moving to attack the calm noblewoman as the rest of the Shepherds moved back to give the new practice partners some space.

"How much you willing to bet Vaike creams her?" Walter asked.

"No bet. I'm not going to just take my comrade's money. Besides, we're still working together this morning."

Walter sighed again, raising his weapon resignedly. It would be a long morning.

* * *

As it turned out, it was worse for Vaike.

"Aaaaaahhhgggg….would you at least heal me?" Vaike groaned from the table he was sprawled over. He was covered nearly head to toe in bruises gained from the training session, and claimed he did not have the strength to move, though it seemed he had plenty enough to complain. Maribelle gestured dismissively with her pink parasol.

"I still don't think you worth the effort, oaf. Not only were you condescending, you insisted on calling me 'missie' the whole time. I think I can leave you here for a while longer."

"Nooooooooooo…" Vaike groaned, stretching the word out for as long as he held breath, then inhaled and repeated.

Jesse turned to Maribelle from his seat beside the injured fighter, adopting a pleading expression. "Would you just heal him already? I can't stand him moaning like this for long!"

Maribelle's parasol was suddenly pointing at Jesse's throat, light glinting dangerously off the tip. Walter absently noted everyone in the room taking a step back. Her demonstration of 'Parasol-Fu' that morning had left an impression.

"I will heal him when I see fit, and not a pip sooner." She stated, drawing herself up. Returning the parasol to her side, she made for the door of the barracks.

Everyone was in the mess hall again, waiting for Miriel to finish lunch. In fact, they had heard a small explosion a little while back, but she hadn't come out of the kitchen yet. Walter was beginning to get worried, but no one else showed any concern, so he kept quiet. Vaike was making enough noise for everyone, anyhow.

Maribelle reached the door and opened it, but instead of leaving, she stood there for a few seconds before closing it and returning with a huff.

"Why'd you stay?" Peter asked, before adding quickly "Not that we don't want you here."

Maribelle sniffed disdainfully. "Why should I explain to a commoner such as yourself?" She sat down in a chair in the corner, away from the others, prim and proper.

"It's the storm," Sumia explained helpfully from the chair closest to the door, "A huge storm that's been coming towards us all day. Didn't you see it?"

Peter was sitting beside a window, against the wall, so he leaned back to look outside before letting out a low whistle. "She's right. I've not seen one like that in years, and it's right on top of us. I wouldn't be surprised if we won't be able to leave the barracks after lunch without getting soaked."

Walter tried to hide a small sigh of relief; if not for Vaike's scrap with Maribelle, he was sure he would have been teased to no end over his trouble against Kellam. Walter hadn't won a match, and every time he thought he had it in the bag, the man seemed to slip out of sight, only to reappear right in front of him. He was just too quick for his own good.

"If we're going to be stuck in here all day, can we at least shut Vaike up?" Jesse complained.

"I said that I would heal him when I saw fit," Maribelle said hotly, getting up and walking to the table where he sat, "You should be thankful I feel so now." She drew her staff and smartly rapped Vaike upside the head, even as the healing magic took effect.

"TEACH IS BACK IN BUSINESS!" Vaike shouted as Maribelle marched to the corner furthest from everyone else, obviously trying to keep from plugging her ears.

Miriel choose that moment to come out of the kitchen, carrying a platter of sandwiches and once more covered in a layer of soot. "I must apologize for the fugacious delay, but there was an inconvenience in the preparation of the previous repast, and I was forced to formulate a swift alternative. I will be joining you presently."

She returned to the kitchen, muttering again. Walter thought he caught something about an 'enigma in my alchemy' but he wasn't about to ask. The food was here, and he needed to get some before Vaike ate it all.

The sandwiches disappeared in short order, and they were extremely good despite being thrown together at last minute. Walter didn't know what had happened to whatever the initial meal had been, but considering Miriel left the kitchen only after several more small explosions and cleaning herself thoroughly, he didn't want to know.

About halfway through lunch a group of the other Shepherds showed up. Two cavaliers, an archer, and a farmboy, in fact. The cavaliers were Sully and Stahl, but the other two were new, the results of the recruiting mission. Stahl led the farmboy, named Donnel, up to the rooms to get him settled, but only after grabbing three or four sandwiches. Sully cussed a bit at not being able to train, and then decided to introduce herself to Walter. She was rather friendly, despite her bad habit of swearing at the drop of a pin. Virion, the archer, regaled them with tales of the things that took place on his past travels, though Walter was doubtful of the authenticity of anything the man said.

As predicted, once the meal was finished, it was pouring outside. With no one willing to leave the barracks, they decided to just consider the rest of the training day foregone. Maribelle retreated to the women's wing of the barracks, and Donnel and Stahl hadn't left the men's wing, but everyone else was in the mess hall. Sully was taking turns arm wrestling Peter and Jesse, winning more oft than not. Vaike, Sumia, and Miriel were having a conversation in the middle of the room, though Walter couldn't hear what was being said. Walter was leaning against the wall near the door, entertaining himself with watching Kellam. The man seemed to disappear periodically, only to pop up somewhere else in the room. It was surprisingly interesting to try and find the armour-clad man every time he vanished.

The downpour continued, growing heavier and more chaotic as time passed. But just as the pounding rain reached a new climax, the door burst open and a pair of strangers stumbled through.

The first was a blond haired girl, holding a black duster over her head to shelter her from the hammering rain. Her dress was still damp, and she clutched a couple of packages to her chest to keep them dry, but she had been spared the worst by the coat, which the other stranger snatched from her.

He was a strong looking fellow, in plain clothing, but he might have been considered handsome were he not wet. But the strangest thing Walter noticed about him was his hair. It was pure white, almost sliver, and looked as though it had heard of a comb, plastered flat to his face by the rain. Walter had never seen someone so young with that hair colour.

Walter was still staring at the man's hair when he began to talk, "What was that for? You just snatched the coat away from me as I was trying to put it on!"

The girl, who -Walter realized with a shock- was the princess, giggled in response. "I wasn't just going to run here in the rain! I would get all wet!"

"Duly noted," the man muttered, glaring as he moved some of his soaked hair out of his eyes, "But why couldn't you have just taken one of the others? You DID make me buy more than one."

"This was easier, that's all! Besides, I paid for them! But we are here now, and that's all that matters right?"

"I would beg to differ…" he muttered, just loud enough to be heard by Walter. Lissa ignored him, turning to gesture grandly to the room and the bemused occupants.

"Welcome to the Shepherds' garrison, Robin! Make yourself right at home!"

Still wringing his coat out and eyeing the package containing the other ones, he stepped farther in to take a good look around.

"I know everyone from the Shepherds, so I'll-" Lissa stopped and stared at Walter, her face going red.

"I'll, um, I'll… let them introduce themselves, alright? Gotta go!" With that, the princess raced up the stairs to the woman's wing. A squeal that sounded suspiciously like Maribelle came back down, but Robin was already introducing himself to Sumia, Vaike, and Muriel.

Looking to the side, Walter found Kellam standing just behind his shoulder. Giving a bit of a grin, Kellam walked over to introduce himself –or at least, Walter thought he was going to. He just started in that direction and disappeared. _I am getting used to that far too quickly…_

The conversation around Robin was getting animated, and rather quickly. Sully, Jesse, and Peter had wandered over and joined, instantly doubling the volume, but Robin seemed to take it in stride, adapting quickly to the general mood quickly, if awkwardly at first. Sighing, Walter walked over to the little gathering.

"Excuse me," Sumia was saying, "But would you happen to know where the captain is?"

Jesse grinned. "Oh, yeah. Tell her about the prince. She's been so lonely without him she couldn't concentrate on practice this morning; she was too busy watching the hills! I'm willing to bet gold that she would have done better blindfolded!"

Sumia squawked, desperately trying to fend off the accusation. "No, no, it's not like that, I'm just worried, that's all!"

The best result she got was laughter from the other Shepherds.

Robin chuckled a little before noticing Walter approaching. When he did, he turned to offer his hand in greeting. "Hi, I'm Robin." He had an easy smile on, causing Walter to relax a bit. But only a bit; the rest of his body had been wound up like a spring the moment he had approached the man.

"I'm Walter, nice to meet you. Welcome here."

"Thanks." Robin said. As the volume rose from the others, Robin took a step back to stand beside Walter. "You know, I was almost hoping that the other Shepherds would be normal, but I think that was too much to hope for. I'm not even sure what normal should look like."

"If you need a hint, not this," Walter said flatly, "By the way, the man on the other side of you is Kellam."

Robin turned and jumped a little, but quickly began shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with the half-hidden man. Walter slipped back to his place near the wall, thanking Naga he had managed to spot the man. He avoided social gatherings like the plague, and meeting new people was worse. _What in the world had I been drinking when I thought to be a bard, or a 'hero'? Once I can get enough money to buy passage back to Prydain, I'll be leaving, and I'll not look outside the walls of my home again if I can help it!_

Suddenly, Vaike beat his fist and let out a belch about ten seconds long, so loud that Walter could swear he felt in his chest. A few of the Shepherds started clapping and then laughing when Robin attempted to replicate it and made a surprisingly good run at it. _Yeah…I'm definitely not going to be in any of the stories, especially with this lot as my companions. I guess I was never cut out for a story. Who ever heard of a hero named Walter, anyhow?_

The door opened with a bang and a man with a cloak rushed through, leaving the door open and swinging behind him. The light blue cloak was soaked through, but Walter though he had seen a House Crest embroidered on the front. When he spoke, he sounded like a boy, giving Walter a jolt of surprise as he closed the door.

"Sumia, Prince Chrom and Commander Phila want you in the castle!" he said, nearly shouting.

Sumia started forward, looking anxious. "W-what was that Ricken? The Captain-" She tripped on a few papers lying around and hit the floor face first.

Ricken carried on as if nothing had happened. "He said to find you first, but I'm supposed to tell you to find the other Pegasus Knights on the way back. I think something's happening, maybe even a battle! It's so exciting! Gotta go!"

Spinning around, he tore out of the room, throwing the door open and again not closing it on the way out. Walter closed it with a sigh as Peter helped Sumia to her feet.

"So who was that?" Robin asked, "I saw some kind of sigil on his cloak, but nothing else, not even his face."

Sumia pulled in a deep breath and Vaike groaned under his breath. "Here comes the politics nerd…"

"That was Ricken," Sumia explained, "The second mage with the Shepherds. He's the second son of the Sammel Erind, head of house Erind. Since he's not the heir, he can leave almost all the nobility duties to his older brother and do whatever he wants. But since they've fell on hard times, he decided not to spend any more money than need be and joined the Shepherds. Besides, house Erind is one of the houses who openly support Exalt Emmeryn and Prince Chrom-oh gods, they called me. I've got to go!" Not even waiting to get her cloak, Sumia darted out the door into the downpour.

Walter rolled his eyes; she hadn't closed the door either.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey people. I finally got the chapter out! Let the villagers rejoice!  
**

 **I've been quite busy recently, so writing was forced to take back seat. Besides that, I'm trying to re-do a bit of my writing style. Anyways, enough excuses.**

 **For this story, I plan to use these four primary vantage points: Robin, Chrom, Lucina, and my OC, Walter. He's in there mainly to get a different perspective on the Shepherds, because most of the people therein seem to be a little out there in one way or another. What do you think of him? As always, I'm open to constructive criticism, whether with review or PM.**

 **PS. If anyone is reading The Final Ascent, my SAO fic, it'll be a while before that is updated; I need to change some things, and I don't have motivation right now.**

 **Fair Flying!**

* * *

"Phila, are you certain you can't spare anyone?" Chrom asked, holding his hand out in pleading, "Even if I have a recruit for this mission, a Pegasus Knight, or what they think is one, will greatly improve our chances in negotiation."

"I'm sorry milord, but I need every hand for this. We aren't just running off a few bands of bandits, we are trying to intimidate a nation with superior numbers, arms, and naval capacity. The only thing we have ever had the upper hand in has been air force. I need every wing of Pegasus Knights I have."

Chrom tightened his grip on Falchion, grinding his teeth. It angered him, but he knew there was sense behind it. Emmeryn looked sad, but Chrom was sure it was because there was fighting in the first place. But what did the rest of the nobles gathered think of it…

One of the nobles stepped forward, her emerald gown sweeping across the floor. It was Lariss, head of house Mazrim, one of the more levelheaded nobles in court in Chrom's opinion. She was young, but she had a head for politics, and often used her beauty to distract from the fact. Today she was wearing jewels in her brunette hair, and kept glancing at Chrom for some reason. He could never understand her looks, but they seemed to have meaning.

"Commander Phila, the operation takes place in a few days, but it will not last forever. Perhaps once the primary goals are finished, you might send one or two Knights to join him? Until then, maybe a couple of Paladins can flesh out the Shepherds ranks."

Another noble stepped out, but his girth was the distinguishing factor this time. He was Aldric, head of house Cenn, and was well known for opposing anything that might help house Ylisse, and for taking great pride in his beard, though that was neither here nor there.

"Come now, you can't expect a private dispatch of Pegasus Knights to be at your beck and call! Besides, traveling from the western mountains to Regna Ferox in time would kill the beasts before they made it. The Pegasus Knight the Shepherds had was due to the generosity of the Commander, and if she needs her back, she will get the knight back, no questions asked." Aldric nodded in a satisfied manner as he finished, preening slightly, sure in his victory.

Phila raised an eyebrow. "Lord Cenn, perhaps you should consult the Commander of the Pegasus Knights before you proclaim our abilities in understatement. With a raised takeoff location, a pegasus can fly a quarter of the distance to the Longfort from Ylisstol in a day. We will end our tour of the border in the Castria Border Pass, and that provides the elevation needed."

Turning, Phila bowed to Chrom. "As soon as our border tour is over, I will send you a wing – no, two! –wings of Pegasus Knights to assist your negotiation efforts."

Chrom's eyes widened slightly even as he bowed slightly in thanks. _Half a score of Pegasus Knights? I only asked for one! If Feroxi respect force as much as Frederick keeps telling me, they'll be bowing and scraping to let us in!_

What he did say, however, was, "Thank you, Commander Phila. Your generosity overwhelms me."

"Always willing to serve, milord."

Emmeryn stepped forward, instantly drawing attention with only her presence. "That is all. Please inform your respective stewards about the changes to be implemented and the recruiting programs. We will meet again after Commander Phila's expedition returns."

Everyone bowed to Emmeryn and began to drift away as she walked back to the head of the chamber, Phila following. Nearly thirty people were scattering throughout the chamber, though only eleven were heads of major houses; the rest were simply clerks or minor nobles.

As he was about to leave, Chrom noticed that one person hadn't moved. Lariss Mazrim was still standing in the middle of the chamber, staring at him. _I should at least say thank you. I wouldn't have the Pegasus Knights without her help._

She was still studying him intently as he approached, and he began to feel slightly unsettled. Was his uniform on wrong this whole time? He didn't have time to check, so he tried to act as confidant as he could. Maybe she wouldn't comment.

When he reached her, she held out her hand to be kissed before he could say anything. He was surprised by her forwardness, but he couldn't decline an offer without coming off as incredibly rude, and there were still quite a few people in sight. They didn't look as though they were watching, but one could never tell in the heart of court.

He reached down and kissed her hand, but when he looked up, she was still staring at him. He was feeling profoundly uneasy now, but he couldn't back out.

"Thank you for your assistance in procuring the Pegasus Knights for the Shepherds. I am indebted to you." He winced internally as he said the last sentence. _What am I doing? I just wanted to say thank you!_

A small smile crossed her face. "It was a small matter, milord. You are the one doing the important work for our country. It was a pleasure to assist you."

"Small matter or not, you have helped me greatly. Again, thank you." _Stop talking, Chrom, just stop._

Lariss gave him another searching glance, and her face firmed, as if she had decided on something. "If you are amiable, I would like to talk with you more, perhaps over tea, after you return. I believe we have a matter of mutual interest to discuss."

 _Wait, what?_

He had no chance to formulate a reply, so he blurted the first thing to mind, "If you wish it, milady."

"Then fare thee well, Prince Chrom. I wish you luck on your journey."

With that, she curtsied and swiftly left the chamber, maintaining a grand dignity fit for a queen. Or an Exalt.

Chrom shook his head and pried his eyes from the spot she had disappeared, turning to make his way to the gates where Frederick waited, all the while contemplating what had happened.

 _Why would she want to meet me for tea? What did she mean by 'mutual interest'? Most of all, why was she looking at me like that? I felt like a horse being examined for purchase._

Shaking his head, he quickened his stride.

 _I wonder if Robin has any advice?_


	6. Chapter Five: In the Meantime

_You have GOT to be kidding me…_ Robin thought to himself as he glared at the cavalry unit forming up ahead of them, leveling lances at his chest. He hated it when they did that; as if he didn't already have problems enough. The blizzard was closing in around them, Miriel was exhausted, and his own spellbook was ruined. _And unless a simple thunder spell is going to bring them all down… better act confidant before everyone panics. Again._

"Chrom, get back here before you make this more of a disaster by dying! Paladins, get into a line, I want you meeting them head on! Frederick, try to distract the commander of the fort! Walter, get behind the front lines; your rapier won't do much good there! Virion, get a vantage point and start shooting if they charge! Jesse, Peter! Keep him alive! Lissa, Kellam, stay with Vaike, and try not to engage. Let's move!"

Robin grimaced even as they rushed to obey him; he was going to lose this fight, and probably badly. But there was no cover from the cavalry if they charged, and he was still reluctant to fight. _These people were supposed to be allies!_

A sudden gust of air hit Robin from behind - coming from opposite the direction of the wind. Cursing, he drew his sword, turning to bring it to bear against whatever it was he had stumbled into.

* * *

 ** _8 days earlier…_**

Robin was rather surprised as he came out of the palace; he wasn't feeling sick anymore. _What kind of sickness could show symptoms so serious then dissipate in the space of a few minutes? Maybe I was hexed? But who would want to-_

A tug on his hand nearly pulled Robin off his feet, and he had to jump from the stairs to the ground to avoid tripping on them.

"Come on, slowpoke! We've got to get you a coat!" Lissa tugged his hand again, nearly knocking him to the ground with her urging.

"Hey, could you slow down for a second?" Robin said, wrenching his hand from her grasp. "If I trip and break my neck, I want to do it at my own pace."

Lissa pouted slightly, but she kept moving. "Well, you'd better move quickly, or you'll end up in the rain." Sure enough, and rumble of thunder passed through the clouds overhead, sounding like it was almost right over them. Robin quickened his pace to match Lissa's.

The grounds were deserted, in sharp contrast to the regiments that had been there earlier. The completely open field made Robin feel a bit vulnerable, and the continued rumbling overhead didn't help dissipate the sensation.

Robin decided to speak; it was better than listening to the thunder. "Soo…are we going to the Shepherds barracks?"

Lissa rolled her eyes. "No, we're going to get you a coat! Weren't you listening just now? I'm even going to pay for it, though I'm not sure you're worth it if you can't pay attention. We'll go to the garrison later."

Robin raised his eyebrows, but by then they were in the streets. They were nearly as deserted as the palace grounds, but a few people hurried back and forth, trying to make that one last delivery or get home before the rain fell. Some craftsmen still worked in sheltered shops, but most of the crowds and the hawkers who had lined the streets earlier had taken refuge, making for a much quieter trip than the entrance to the city.

Winding their way through the cobblestone streets, they eventually found a small shop with a sign proclaiming it to be a tailor's shop. Lissa ran ahead a little and entered with a cheerful greeting, obviously familiar with the place. Robin followed her in and was stunned by the riot of colours that met his eyes.

The shop was deep, but most of the space was taken up by enough cloth and clothing samples to cover a regiment. There were deep purples, violent reds, and gleaming yellows, all thrown together in a combination that led the eye from one fabric to another, nearly inducing vertigo. Robin blinked and shook his head. Underneath all the chaos there WERE more muted colours; blues, grays, and greens that he preferred.

Suddenly, a door in the back opened, revealing yet another room in a similar state to the first for but a moment, before a portly man came walking through. Though in plain workman's clothes, he could be recognized as the master of the establishment by the way he walked, knowing exactly where every step was going to land. He wore a beard on the lower half of his face, but left the upper lip bare, a strange look, but it allowed Robin an unobstructed view of the broad smile that crossed his face when he saw Lissa bouncing on her toes.

"Milady Lissa!" the man boomed, throwing his arms wide in welcome. "It has been far too long. What brings you to my humble business? Perhaps you want to know where I got that tea I gave you for your last birthday?"

Lissa giggled. "I haven't had time to try it yet, Master Dolmen. I went on a little expedition, and I only got back today."

Master Dolmen's eyebrows rose slightly as he came forward. "Haven't had the time? When is there not time for tea? Ah, but I must assume this was for the Shepherds. And haven't I told you to call me Hal? It is my name, after all."

"Well, then YOU have to stop calling me 'milady'!" Lissa responded, though it seemed like it was rehearsed. "Anyways, I don't time to talk today. This is Robin, a new Shepherd."

Hal Dolmen jerked when he saw Robin, as if just noticing his presence. But in an instant it was gone, and the man grinned as he shook hands with Robin. "Good to meet you, Sir Robin. I assume you would like something from my humble shop?"

After describing his old coat to Hal, the man became a flurry of activity, moving deftly for one of his size. He danced around the shop, pulling out styles of coat, shaking his head, and putting them back. At one point he pulled out a dress before he remembered himself. Finally, he made a sound of success. With a flourish, he displayed a coat almost exactly like Robin's-except it was bright purple.

"Here, try this on."

Robin gave the coat a doubtful look, but he put it on anyways. It sat comfortably on his shoulders, but something was off. Hal eyeballed it for a moment before throwing his hands up in a gesture of frustration.

"Ah, what am I doing? How am I supposed to get the proper fit for you if I haven't measured you yet? Wait a moment, please."

Again the man scurried off, returning with a long measuring tape. A few minutes later and he brought another coat. Robin's eyes nearly bulged. It was a deep forest green in colour, with black embroidery up the sleeves and around the collar. On the collar itself, a pair of matched foxes in gold thread stood out, not looking too fancy, but still. It was in gold thread. It didn't have a hood, but the whole thing looked like it cost a fortune to make. Lissa was nodding appreciatively, eyeing the collar closely for some reason. Hal absently extended the coat in Robin's direction even as he looked through another stack of garments.

"Here, try this one on. I'm sure I had another with a hood somewhere here…"

"Wha…? No!" Robin protested "I can't afford something like this!"

Lissa rolled her eyes and grabbed the coat from Hal to push it into Robin's arms. "Don't worry about that, dummy. After all, I'm paying."

She said it so casually Robin almost missed the second part. "I'm…I'm sorry, what was that?"

Lissa glared at him for a moment before replying in a tone that was rather unlike her. "Really? Again? Just try on the stupid coat."

Robin blinked at her slightly abrupt tone, but did as she asked. The coat fit perfectly, and Hal made a satisfied sound before leaving in search of more.

* * *

About ten minutes later, Lissa had regained her good humor, and Hal had found three more coats; a regal red of a bit of a different fit, more made for courts than battlefields, what with all the gold embroidery; another green of the same design as the first, but with a cleverly hidden hood; and a black coat that nearly matched his old one.

Lissa insisted on buying all of them. She gave them to Hal, but Robin managed to snag the black one before they were all carried away. Hal wrapped the others up, and gave the packages to Lissa, and they stepped out of the shop with friendly well-wishes following them to the street.

Robin was about to put on the coat when he felt a drop of rain land on his head. He looked up for only a second, but that was enough for the coat to suddenly disappear from his hands. Lissa was already halfway down the street, shouting "Last one there's a rotten egg!"

"Hey! At least give me one of the coats- HEY!" As Robin gave chase, the rain began to fall in earnest, flattening his hair to his skull as he raced through the city after the imp of a princess.

* * *

Marth carefully eyed the small village from the relative safety of the nearby forest, heedless of the pounding rain. It was remote; the road that led out was well used, but only for a few kilometers. After that, it faded into no more than a game trail. But for all safety that brought, the river negated.

It was a stunningly clear river that flowed near the town, and there had been a dock. Marth couldn't get close, but it must be used by traders at least.

Marth frowned to herself. _Seeing me will be the talk of the town for months, if not years. However, relatively few people come around here; it will take that kind of time for anyone of consequence to hear of me. Still, I don't know the type of traders that go through here. For all I know, this could be the stop for one of the Anna Family members, and that could compromise me faster than they could snatch a spare coin. I can get supplies elsewhere._ Shaking her head, Marth slowly began to back into the greenery. If she went slowly, the rain would cover her movement and she would vanish among the trees without anyone the wiser.

She hadn't moved more than two steps when a male voice from behind her spoke up. "Come on man, you only just got a look at Carryn. You're not going to leave before having a proper visit, now are you?"

Marth spun around with a half concealed squeak, gripping the cloth-wrapped hilt of Falchion. Staring about wildly, she found a completely empty forest.

"Oh, whoops. You're a woman? That's a surprise. But now, I haven't introduced myself, now have I?" The voice was distinctly young, and tinged with laughter and mischief. Marth kept looking around, but nothing jumped out, and she couldn't find so much as a flicker of movement other than the rain.

"My name's Refr. Glad to meet you. What's your name? Also, you don't have to bother drawing that. If you actually tried to attack me, I'd take you down before you did."

Marth blinked, then removed her hand from the hilt before straightening, though still braced and ready to move. "My name is none of your concern. Where are you? Show yourself!"

"Oh, come on!" the voice exclaimed, teasing. "There's no fun in that, now is there? Here's an idea. You have an hour to try and find me. I'll even give you a hint if you ask nice-"

Another, much deeper voice cut in. "Refr! That's enough." A large man suddenly appeared from behind a tree, holding a strangely shaped quarterstaff, a little taller than he. A green cloak covered him, and his hood was up, so Marth couldn't see his face. "We are here to track the Shapes, not play games with strangers. They've disappeared again, but we both know what happened last time."

 _Shapes..._ Marth thought to herself, _Could that be...?_

"But this one was so cooperative! Everyone around town immediately suspects something these days if I was within five feet in the last week!"

"And for good reason. Now get down from the tree." The other man grumbled. A slim man dropped from a tree not two feet from Marth, wearing the same green cloak as the other, nearly blending into the background when he stood still. He held another strange quarterstaff.

"Killjoy." He muttered, but the other man cut him off with a gesture.

Turning to Marth, the second man spoke softly. "I don't know who you are, but I suggest you leave soon. We are stalking a terror in these woods, and I'd rather you not experience it firsthand. Please, head into Carryn. The Watchtower Inn has rooms; sleep, and leave in the morning." Turning, he waved his hand, and another man dropped out of the trees, a little taller than the others, but nigh identical with his staff and cloak. The three of them began to walk away.

"Wait!" Marth called, holding out her hand. "I think I know of these monsters. I've come to-"

Suddenly, Refr and the third man vanished and the remaining man turned to face her like a cornered beast, drawing a wood axe from his belt. "Don't say another word, monster!"

"I-I'm sorry?" Marth stuttered, recoiling from the unexpected change in mannerisms.

The man nearly growled his response. "You should be! The last time someone 'knew' of these things, they got five of us killed!"

Refr and the other reappeared, broadhead arrows drawn to their cheeks. _Those weren't quarterstaffs! Those were longbows! ...Really big ones!  
_

Marth was about to respond, to try and convince them that she wasn't trying to get them killed, when she noticed a flicker of movement in the corner of her eye. She reflexively sidestepped and drew Falchion, blocking an axe that had come out of nowhere, aimed for her midsection. _Risen!_

Before she could push the monster away, a pair of arrows slammed into the beast, nearly up to the fletchings. It collapsed instantly.

Marth instinctively ducked and heard something swish over her head. Spinning, she came face to face with another Risen. Carrying her momentum through to her swing, bringing Falchion around to decapitate the beast, then leaping back towards the three men.

Five more Risen had surrounded them, growling at their lost kill before jumping to attack. A pair of arrows took the first two, and the other three were either brained by the broad shouldered man or cut to pieces by Marth.

"Dear…dear Naga, what were those?" Refr stuttered as he lowered his longbow.

"Those," Marth said, still studying the surrounding bushes through the mist and the rain, "were what I was trying to warn you about. They're called Risen."

The three men eyed her for a moment before the broad shouldered man stepped forward. "Come. We have to make it to the village."

The third man stepped forward, gripping his bow nervously. "Thues, our bowstrings are soaked. If they come at us again, we won't be able to use the bows."

"Then use your sword, Bran." Thues said gruffly. "My bowstring was soaked a while back, so that's just one more reason to get back to town before those…things…attack again." He turned to Marth even as he stowed his bow and adjusted the quiver on his waist. "We need to get back to Carryn. If you have any information, or just don't want to end up dead, you can follow."

Marth nodded without saying anything, and the set out for the town Marth presumed was called Carryn. The three young men, Refr, Bran, and Thues, moved quickly and silently, ghosting from tree to tree. Marth was impressed; the only reason she was able to follow was because she knew they were there. Not to mention they had spotted her in the first place. She had been trained by the Shepherds on a barren landscape, and even her friends couldn't find her sometimes. Yarne had always been better than her, and Gerome too, but that was beside the point.

They passed the spot Marth had been watching from, and quickly closed with the village. A pair of watchmen stood at the entrance, looking inattentive from the way they lounged under the shelter of the gates, but they both had longbows kept out of the rain, and they waved acknowledgement to the little group even before they were out of the trees.

As Thues passed them, he whispered something to them, and they both stiffened and began watching the trees more carefully. Inside the town was a more pleasant place, but they made straight for a larger building with a small sign outside: the Inn. The sign bore the faded impression of a tower, and something resembling words underneath, but it was weather-worn beyond reading.

Inside, the hearth roared with a hearty fire to keep the cold and damp out. A handful of people sat around a few tables talking amongst themselves. But once Marth entered, the whole room quieted significantly, and a grizzled, elderly man in the back looked up sharply.

Leaping to his feet, he waved at the innkeeper. "Bring some warm drinks up to the private dining room, Jerry. And make sure we're not disturbed."

"Right you are, Samel. Be right up." The innkeeper responded, pulling out some cups. Samel waved the group forward and went up some stairs in the back of the common room. Following him down the hall, they ended up in a small dining room with simple furnishings. Jerry the innkeeper came in a placed a few drinks on the table, spared a wary glance for Marth, then retreated to the hall again, closing the door tightly behind him.

Samel indicted for Marth to sit down, then began speaking to the others in the room. "Thues, Bran, Refr. I'm glad to see you safe, but you wouldn't come off of patrol early if nothing happened. Tell me." Marth shifted. She wanted to tell them what was going on, but she felt it would be better to get a handle on the situation first.

Thues spoke for all of them. "When we started our patrol, we had been warned that the Shapes had been more active, but no one had disappeared. Eric went so far as to suggest we up the number going out, but we couldn't do that without letting everyone know that we were worried, and old man Jerr would have us in for an hour of lectures if he heard about that."

Refr visibly shuddered, but Thues kept going. "When we left…we saw nothing. No sign of the shapes ever being there. We had gone around Carryn twice when Refr saw Marth here in the bushes, watching the town. He made a mess of asking what she was doing, but Marth told us that she knew something about the Shapes, so-"

Samel jerked in his seat, nearly falling out as he reached for a knife belted to his waist. Bran whipped out his hand to stop the elder from hurling it at Marth, who had half-drawn Falchion on reflex.

"Stop, please! Listen to the end," Bran begged, maintaining a firm hold on his arm, "Marth saved us from the Shapes!"

Samel stopped struggling, eyes flicking from Marth's mask to Falchion and back. "I'll think about it," He growled, "if you put your overgrown breadknife away."

Marth pushed Falchion back into the sheath and straightened quickly. Bran released Samel, who lowered his arm as though nothing had happened.

Thues resumed the story. "When Marth told us she knew about the Shapes, we nearly attacked her ourselves, but before we did, the Shapes themselves attacked." Samel straightened in alarm, and Bran and Refr visibly shuddered, this time in true disgust. "They were…they were like walking corpses, but fast and strong. Very strong." His eyes glazed over with the recollection.

Samel's eyes widened. He took in a shuddering breath before speaking. "But they can be killed." When no reply came, he spoke more urgently. "Say they can be killed. Boy!"

Thues jumped, startled out of memory before nodding. "Yes. They fall to an arrow or axe just like normal men do. But we all would have been dead if not for Marth."

Samel visibly slumped in relief before gesturing for Thues to go on.

"She blocked the first attack from one of the Shapes while we were pointing bows at her and accusing her of the crimes of…the last one. It came out of nowhere, but she reacted immediately, and took another three down besides."

Samel hummed to himself thoughtfully, stroking his beard. Finally, he looked at Marth. "Well, milady, if you have something to say, speak up. I would very much like to rid our town of this menace, if not the whole world. If anyone could teach us that, I'm sure it would be one of the exalted blood."

Marth jerked in shock, barely registering the three young men in the room doing the same. After a few seconds, she relaxed slightly. "How…"

Samel chuckled. "You may have covered it with rags, but not many swords have that type of hilt, and the blade of Falchion is quite distinctive. Especially for one who has seen it before."

Taking Marth's tilted head for a question, he explained quickly. "I served under the last exalt in the Plegian War. One does not forget the sight. Now, if you know anything, if you can teach us how to find and fight these things, please do so. Several of my people have gone missing, and this is the first true, up close sighting we've had. We'll pay whatever you want."

Marth hesitated, wanting to accept, but… "I need to get to Regna Ferox before the Khan's Tournament. I do not think I could help you now, but I will return."

Samel's eyes lit up. "The trader from Ylisstol is coming in a few days, and the river is always a faster transport than horse. Would you be willing to stay until he comes? Please?"

A note of pleading entered the old man's voice and made Marth hesitate again. She hated that. She didn't like hesitating. But his offer made sense…

"All right," said Marth, sitting down, "I'll stay and tell you what I know, and teach you a few tricks. But please don't tell anyone else about my identity. I'm just Marth."

"Yes," Samel agreed, relief shining in his eyes, "I can agree to that. What about you three?" Samel turned to the young men who had brought Marth in with a dangerous glint in his eye. Thues and Bran both stiffened and nodded repeatedly, while Refr swiftly returned a clock to the wall, giving an overly innocent look as he pretended that he hadn't spent the last few minutes investigating its innards.

Samel seemed to take that as an agreement and turned back to Marth. "Now, please, anything you know will help us."

Marth took in a deep breath. "Well, the proper name for them is Risen…"

* * *

Gregor sighed heavily as he tried once again to get a read on his potential employer. It was a she, of that, there was no doubt, but her encompassing coat with drawn hood made it impossible to figure out anything else. The Grimleal patterns would normally have given her away... if it were not for the nature of the job. The other mystery resided in the box on the table between them.

"Tell Gregor again," he said, leaning back in his chair. If he could get a rise out of her, she might let something slip. He _hoped_ he could get a rise; this was his sixth time asking. "Tell Gregor about job."

The woman dipped her head in calm acceptance and spoke with a clear, emotionless voice. "There is a prisoner I want released. She looks like a young girl, but she is much more. When you find her, you are to give her this box. Then take her to the militia unit called the Shepherds."

"Where is little girl being held?" Gregor asked, again for the sixth time.

"In a Grimleal camp, in the north eastern Plegia. It will be well guarded, with mercenaries as well as dark mages. You would want to get in and out without alerting anyone if you want to get away. She might not recognize you as an ally, so you should be ready to calm her."

"What about Gregor's pay?"

"I can give you 5000 gold now, and you may request any further payment from the Shepherds on arrival."

Gregor crossed his legs on the table and took a long draught of his drink to cover his disappointment. None of his information-gaining tricks had worked, and all he knew was what She had told him. But it _was_ a tempting offer. And there was something about this job that just didn't feel like normal. It was like…he was reliving the old days.

"Gregor accept." He said, tossing the empty mug over his shoulder.

His client nodded and placed another case on the table before standing and walking away. Gregor blinked. She hadn't even asked him to sign a contract.

Shaking his head, Gregor stood, leaving a few coins on the table to cover his tab and grabbing the cases before leaving.

On the street, he calmly walked to his inn, slowly ascended the stairs, and entered his room without making a fuss. Once inside, he swiftly threw the lock in place, made sure the window shudders were secure, and checked through the room for spies and assassins.

Finding none, he sat at the table in the corner. Placing the box on top, he looked it over for traps and hidden openings. When nothing turned up, he sat back in his chair, studying the little thing for a full minute. Then, in a sudden movement, he flipped the lid open.

He immediately backed away again, watching for the telltale signs of poison or hidden blades, but neither appeared. He curiously approached, then looked into small container.

A single, perfectly formed gem rested snugly within a silken pillow. Light green and about the size of his considerable fist, it stunned Gregor for a few seconds.

Gregor sat back down and thought for a minute. He could leave the contract now. There was no telling how much the gem would go for, but he was certain he could live in comfort for the rest of his life with the profit. It was certainly a safer option than following through on the job.

Gregor looked at the gem a few seconds more, then closed the case and moved to pack up his few possessions. He had a job to do, after all.

* * *

Frederick stood, ramrod straight in the darkened hallway. The clouds had already covered the sun, and the rain was beginning to fall.

A clacking noise from behind him drew his attention, but he did not turn. A man approached, joining him in front of the window. He spoke in a rich baritone.

"Your message intrigued me. You aren't a man given to secrecy, but your letter only talked briefly of this new 'threat.'"

Frederick shifted so he was facing the older man. The broad shouldered man was as tall as Frederick himself, and walked with a deadly grace Frederick had only ever seen on three other people. He had a air of command about him in his pressed dress uniform, lightly stroking his goatee in a thoughtful manner.

He was Garth Wistil, the head of the Paladins since the Plegian war. He had served directly under the last Exalt in the Royal Guard, and had been the only Guard member to survive the final battle without major injury. He apparently still counted it his greatest failure. Garth looked at Frederick out of the corner of his eye and lifted an eyebrow, waiting for his response.

Frederick jerked in surprise; he had been inspecting Garth for a full minute. "Ahem, yes. We experienced some very strange things on this recruiting trip. One of the more experienced recruits seems to be an amnesiac tactician, though I suspect he is not what he says he is. Worse, he has gained Chrom's explicit trust already. General recruitment rates are lower than the were at the end of the Plegian War, even with the Prince himself joining the efforts. The bandits are being sent- or at least backed - by the Plegian Crown. But the most troubling thing is-"

Garth cut him off with a gesture. "Clarify this, to make sure I understand. The bandits being of Plegian origin is NOT the most troubling subject of that which you experienced?" When Fredrick nodded, Garth sighed. "Proceed."

"When moving through the forests to the south, about a day's ride from Ylisstol, A cataclysm occurred. The ground was torn, trees thrown like child's toys, and molten rock spilled from the earth."

Garth's eyes widened in horror, but Frederick didn't stop.

"When most of this had settled, an... eye... opened in the sky. I wasn't near enough to see, but apparently two corpses dropped from the eye. When they hit the ground, they stood up and attacked Prince Chrom and Princess Lissa. Only through the intervention of a young man who ALSO fell from the eye were they able to survive. More of these walking corpses appeared in the immediate area soon afterwards."

Garth paled and turned to look out the window again. Frederick hesitated, but added one more thing.

"Sir... the young man who saved the prince and princess... he called himself Marth."

Garth looked sharply at Frederick, then sighed.

"You didn't happen to take a hit to the head on this trip, did you?"

"No sir."

"Pity." Garth turned back to the window.

Frederick hesitated, then spoke again. "Your orders, sir?"

Garth firmed his jaw. "Speak of this to no one else, and ensure your soldiers don't either. I'm certain your troops have an idea of the danger posed by these creatures. Make sure to get personal reports from each participant. Work out a general preparation course for the other soldiers, then deliver it to me. As of now, your Shepherds have the most combat experience against these creatures. If an emergency surfaces and they reappear, your group will be the first on call. Make certain they are ready. The Paladins you meet on the road will be cooperative towards you. I will alert Exalt Emmeryn and Commander Phila to the situation. Finally, include a description of this 'Marth' and a sketch, if you can produce one. If you see him again, try to gain custody, peacefully if at all possible. We need to know who he is and what he knows."

Frederick saluted, then turned to walk towards the doors. Chrom would probably be finished already, and they needed to get back to the barracks.

"Frederick," Garth called, "You weren't dismissed."

Frederick turned back to the aging commander. A bolt of lightning exploded in the sky outside, framing his face in light. He suddenly seemed frail.

"This world is changing. We must change as well if we are survive. Others will oppose us, the Army Core and House Cenn for sure, and many lurk in the shadows. Be careful. I will refer to these things as Risen, should we speak of it again. Pray to Naga that day does not come. Dismissed."

Garth Wistil turned back to the window with arms crossed behind his back to watch the storm.

* * *

 **A/N: Right, another chapter down! This ended up as a filler chapter, but I think the story needed the worldbuilding. I regret nothing.**

 **The first section of the chapter is about the Longfort encounter. I'll try to get another chapter out describing the trip to the Longfort by the end of the week, but no promises.**

 **So, yeah. Thanks to my consulting writers, Mataras and Faldon113, who are both awesome. Go read their stuff. Trust me. Also thanks to IwouldifIcould, because we kind of have a joint-effort-motivation-thing going on here. And _A Rude Awakening_ is a very interesting story. ****And thanks, Dude of Wavesand. You can review all you want.**

 **Thanks to all those who review; I enjoy constructive criticism. Keep it up!**


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